


Curiosity Becomes a Heavy Load

by Rhanon_Brodie



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: AU, Alex and Jamie being pricks to one another, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Drugs, Frottage, M/M, Miles is a bit of a scoundrel, Nick always seems to be drunk, boys touching, dominant Miles, drunken Nick, fucking about, gratuitous reference to lyrics, gratuitous use of the Sheffield dialect and Northern accent, jamex, petulant Jamie, somewhat dominant Alex, two dudes doing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhanon_Brodie/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a kiss.  Several, actually.  And, really, nothing ever comes of them.  Alex is too shy to move beyond kissing, and Jamie, while bold and bullish, doesn’t push - he knows it won’t do him any good.  Al will come around when he’s good and ready, if he ever comes round at all.  If he does, then great, Jamie will deal with it.  If he doesn’t, then it’s too bad, but he won’t lose sleep over it, either.</p>
<p>Not yet, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Companion piece to 'Docked in Tempestuous Bays'. This is my take on Jamie Cook and Alex Turner, from Whatever People Say I Am... to their AM days. Unabeta'd, so some facts may or may not be true. I've taken the liberty to skew the timing of some events to work with the narrative (such as The Age of the Understatement being recorded October as opposed to August). The incident at the Met Bar after the Q Awards in 2006 has been reported as 22 quid and 33 quid; I went with the latter, but both are disgraceful. I'd say some people may appear OOC, but how can they really be in character when we don't know them personally? This is simply my take, and so Alex isn't a frail puppy, and Miles isn't a prancing nancy boy. If that bothers you, please just move right along. 
> 
> Those of you that know my work know I'm not a fan of song fic, but I'd be lying if I told you there aren't snippets of lyrics in this piece. This is long, people, multi-chapters, broken into two separate parts. I'll try to update regularly.

“S’not like I’m fallin’ in love.”

Alex tries to soften the blow with a chuckle, but he sees the bright flicker in Jamie’s eyes suddenly snuffed out.

“What I meant were…” Alex quickly scrambles, trying to fix the blunder, cursing himself for not thinking those last words through.

“I got it, Al,” Jamie breathes, drumming his fingers on the table. He directs his fork away from Al’s hand and instead stabs his taters, and drags them through catsup.

Alex frowns and sits back, glancing about the crowded restaurant. He’s very thankful to be in Bruges where the common language is French, and there’s little worry of being overheard. Not that it’d matter; he and Jamie are tucked into a corner booth for breakfast, while Nick and Matt sleep off the night before.

_The night before._

Oh, god, the night before with drunken monologues, too much champagne, heavy lights, heavier hearts, and - _He cringes at the sting that reminds him of Jamie’s exuberance_ \- heavy hands. And, weren’t that always it? Far away from home and reality, beneath the cover of night, and hazy afternoons, they always seem to end up here, the morning after, coffee (and cigarettes for Alex), and silences that always beg the question, “Now what?”

The thought of being thankful to be in Bruges suddenly dissolves and Alex very much wants to be anywhere but here, with Jamie, pretending to play nice over taters and eggs, like last night didn’t happen.

He’s not entirely sure Jamie _does_ have it, when Alex doesn’t even have it, and isn’t sure what it is that he’s supposed to have. All he knows is that when Jamie kisses him, it’s like lava, cinnamon, and sugar, and that the older boy’s cheeks flush so prettily.

Maybe it’s a product of growing up in each other’s backyards, with sleepovers and campouts and summers spent with each other’s families. There’s a familiarity with them, one that Alex is grateful for, ever since, at the uncertain age of fifteen, they fumbled on the backstep of Jamie’s home after one of Jamie’s soccer matches. Suddenly, they were kissing, a strange climax to a bout of gentle teasing and roughhousing, and Alex's braces left an imprint on Jamie’s bottom lip.

Jamie’s never told Alex this, but he couldn’t stop running his tongue over it for a week.

They laughed nervously the next day, and didn’t mention it, but it keeps happening, each time lasting a bit longer, getting a bit bolder, until inevitably one night Jamie’s dad stumbles out onto the back porch, and there’s his boy with the neighbour’s dark-eyed lad kissing frantically, hands groping at shoulders and necks and wrists, the dull yellow patch of porch light making shadows on their round faces. Mr. Cook clears his throat, looks from one boy to the other, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t let your mother see,” is all he says before turning right back around and heading into the house.

So, they cool it.

For about a week.

And, really, nothing ever comes of it. Alex is too shy to move beyond kissing, and Jamie, while bold and bullish, doesn’t push - he knows it won’t do him any good. Alex will come around when he’s good and ready, if he ever comes round at all. If he does, then great, Jamie will deal with it. If he doesn’t, then it’s too bad, but he won’t lose sleep over it, either.

Not yet, anyway.

\+ 

“...But even _I_ know that Take That were bollocks, eh?” Alex’s laughter followed the insult, and Jamie snorted in disbelief at his friend’s words, while the crowd’s cheering went from enthusiastic to uncertain.

Alex quickly continued, sensing the tension in the room, and the host deftly stepped towards them, and waved them off like misbehaving schoolboys - and that’s how they often got mistaken. It pissed Alex off, and Jamie knew it, because it pissed him off, too: to be brushed aside like they weren’t legitimate or summat. He was holding the little brass ‘Q’ statue at that very moment, for fuck’s sake, didn’t that mean they at least had a foot in the door? 

“Jamie, get moving,” Matt suddenly whispered, nudging him towards the stairs.

Alex was already stepping down, and Jamie was quick to follow. The crowd was cheering once more, and the host went on to mutter, “Don’t encourage them.” Fuck. It was enough to make Jamie stop short, and pause.

“C’mon, Jameh,” Alex threw over his shoulder, lifting his eyes to the stage and shooting a rather cheeky look to the host, before scratching under his eye with his middle finger. “He’s not worth it, aye? Bloody fool. Let’s go get pissed already. Me buzz is wearin’ off.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, clapping a hand on Alex’s shoulder and tailing him to their table to grab their jackets before moving towards the exit.

They’d drank before they arrived at the awards. Just because they were making a name (or trying to) didn’t mean they were making money yet, and it was just common sense to drink at Jamie’s parents place because a) it was cheaper, and b) Jamie’s parents were gone to Portugal for the next two weeks. Arriving at the awards ceremony, they’d been giggly, a little boisterous, definitely tipsy, but as the evening wore on, that feeling wore off, and now Jamie was attempting to ignore the throb of pain behind his eyes that came whenever the alcohol wore off. 

Nabbing his jacket, Jamie plucked the half-finished can of Boddington’s and carted it off towards the exit, swilling the contents and pitching the can as he followed Matt and Alex outside to meet Nick - Andy had played on the album, so Nick hadn’t felt proper about accepting an award, so he’d held back at the table for most of the night, content to drink in comfortable silence. Jamie knew that wouldn’t last, however, and he could already see Nick bouncing on the balls of his feet as the trio exited into the street from the lobby.

People milled about in the taxi ramp, and there were glimpses of members of a more than a few bands that made the boys’ collective heads spin. They dallied, Nick reaching into his jacket for a flask which he passed around, while Alex smoked another cigarette and Matt fiddled on his phone. Jamie dug his hands into his pocket, Q Award tucked firmly therein, and scuffed his feet along the damp pavement, feeling the urge to just get moving already.

“Eh, Cookeh,” Alex muttered, laying a hand on Jamie’s wrist. “Calm the fook down,” he chuckled. “I can feel you practically vibratin’.”

Jamie managed to still himself with Alex’s touch, but he made the mistake of looking up into dark eyes and smirking lips, and he let go of a breath he’d been holding deep in his chest. “Can we joost go?” Jamie pleaded, though he winced at the sound of a whine coming through. “Like...what are we waitin’ on?”

Alex smiled, and nodded, in tune with Jamie’s hastiness. “Matt’s checkin’ on plans, yeah? Ah, here he is. What is our course of action, Mr. Helders?”

“Met Bar. Lots of people showing their faces there, yeah? Could be a tear. C’mon, Nick, I haven’t ‘ad any yet; been fookin’ findin’ a place for the lot of you to get pissed.” The drummer proceeded to wrestle the flask from Nick’s hands, and downed a few gulps, making a face as he swallowed. “Fook me, that’s tequila,” he rasped, coughing a laugh and handing the flask to Jamie.

Jamie shook the flask and frowned. There wasn’t much left, and his wallet was just as empty. The Met Bar could be a little pricey, but with that much activity going on, and that many people there...well, there had to be someone taking care of the liquor, right? 

“Polish it off, James,” Alex murmured, throwing an arm around Jamie’s shoulders, his smouldering cigarette dangling from long fingers. “An’ let’s go, yeah?” He tilted his head against Jamie’s and sighed dreamily. “Get me the fook outta here before some rabid Take That fan comes and kicks me ‘ead in.”

Jamie tilted the flask to his lips and swallowed, concentrating on the bitter burn of liquor rather than the warmth of Alex’s body pressed to his, or the scent he carried - laundry detergent, body wash, shampoo, and cigarette smoke. He hoped Alex couldn’t detect the tremor that ran through him as he inhaled, or the way his cheeks flushed deeper than they already were.

“Cold?” Alex muttered, scrubbing a hand up the back of Jamie’s head in a playful manner. “Wear a fookin’ muffler, aye?” He snickered and buried his chin into his own plaid scarf, wound smartly around his neck.

“Right,” Jamie breathed, nudging Alex aside with a snort. 

But Alex reeled him right back in, long, lean arm looping about his shoulders, and he tilted his head in towards Jamie’s as they steered up the street to the tube station, snickering at Alex’s acceptance speech, the way Nick wanders when he’s been drinking, and how Matt always seems to know where the party is.

It was shaping up to be a grand night.

+

“M’not payin’ thirty-three quid for two fookin’ pints, mate,” Jamie growled with flushed cheeks. He snapped his light blue gaze to the barman at Met Bar and shook his head. “That’s disgraceful.”

The barman was firm, and jutted his chin out. “Look, if you can’t pay for a fookin’ pint, then you shouldn’t be in here in the first place.”

Jamie fumed, the hype of the evening still crackling in his veins, and he clenched his fists and stepped onto the foot hold running the bottom of the bar, and leaned over towards the barman. “It’s not a question of whether or not I _can_ pay,” Jamie snapped. “I’m sayin’ that I _won’t_ pay thirty-three quid for two pints.”

There was standoff between the two men, Jamie younger, smaller, but full of piss and vinegar. The barman eyed the lad steadily, and then lifted his eyes, and his hand, to the door. “Get out,” he rumbled. “Take your party an’ get the fook out. Don’t come back, you little pissant.”

Jamie scoffed, and pushed away from the bar. “Weren’t plannin’ on it, mate.” He rounded on his heel and wagged his chin at the table where Alex was sitting with wide, drunken eyes watching the back and forth. He rose as swiftly as able, gathering his and Jamie’s coat, and met Jamie at the door. Together, they hustled outside into the night.

The gelid air hit them right away, and Jamie huffed a few angry breaths, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol, as Alex shifted beside him and scrunched down into the collar of his jacket before lighting a cigarette. “The fuck were that about?” Alex muttered around the filter, slipping his lighter back into his pocket.

Jamie mumbled something about thirty quid being outrageous, and then slipped his hand around Alex’s fingers, and tugged the slighter lad behind him, heading up the street and around the corner.

“Cookie?” Alex asked softly, scurrying his footsteps to try and see his friend’s face.

“Shut up, Al,” Jamie whispered in the next moment, gently shoving Alex back to meet the brick face of the building they’d stopped in front of.

Jamie plucked the burning cigarette from Alex’s fingers and tossed it to one side, and then swallowed Alex’s protest with a hard kiss, teeth colliding. 

For a second, Alex stiffened, and sucked in a startled breath which only seemed to urge Jamie on. They hadn’t kissed in a very long time, but the way Jamie was kissing him, the way Jamie pressed Alex back into the wall and slipped his tongue against Alex’s felt like no time had ever passed between them. 

If anything was different, it was Alex. He was bolder, somehow more secure, and he relaxed in Jamie’s hold, even as Jamie’s hands became frantic, pressing at Alex’s narrow hips and digging into his ribs. A particularly rough squeeze caught Alex off guard and he tore his mouth away with a surprised yelp, and he stared, wide-eyed and opened mouthed, as Jamie bounced back, seeming just as startled.

Try as he might, Jamie couldn’t look away from Alex, from the glittering, black eyes, the reddened mouth, or the pink wash over his angular features. He was trembling - they both were, actually - and Jamie sucked in a hurried breath, and jammed his hands in his pockets, his face suddenly flaming. “I…ehhhmmm…” he frowned and glanced sideways. 

It wasn’t the kiss that scared him, it was the ferocity of it.

He couldn’t fathom how he’d gone so long without tasting Alex, and he’d snogged the boy proper, without leave, and now Alex was looking at him like he was the best present among a thousand on Christmas morning.

“All right,” Alex murmured, swallowing loudly. He glanced around, too, wondering what to do.

“I mean… who the fuck pays thirty-three quid for two pints?” Jamie muttered, taking a spot next to Alex and leaning back to stare into the street.

“Aye,” Alex said slowly.

“I miss the Pack Horse,” Jamie mumbled. “Please tell me we’re goin’ back home soon.”

Alex nodded again, and stole a quick glance at Jamie.

Jamie was looking back, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“For a bit,” Alex stated slowly. “But we leave for Germany in a fortnight.”

Jamie scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “Right.”

They were both silent on the walk back to the train.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine. 
> 
> This is slash, people, which means two guys kissing and touching and eventually having sex. And it's Jamie and Alex. And it's my second foray into slash, which is both nerve-wracking and exciting, as it's a challenge for me. 
> 
> "Contraband German" refers to the fact that Penny Turner taught German. I figured Alex couldn't have grown up in a home with a German teacher without learning at least a little bit.
> 
> One of the most important aspects of reading (for me, anyway) is being able to 'hear' the characters talking in my head while I"m reading a story. That being said, I've taken liberty with the Northern dialect and accent, and relied partly on slang dictionaries, and partly on interviews with AM. The 'th' sound is replaced with 'v' (as in 'fing' instead of 'thing', and 'wiv' instead of 'with', etc). I've used 'nowt', 'owt', 'summat', and 'wanker' to name a few; if you're not sure, feel free to ask.

_“I miss the Pack Horse,” Jamie mumbled. “Please tell me we’re goin’ back home soon.”_

_Alex nodded again, and stole a quick glance at Jamie._

_Jamie was looking back, his eyebrows raised expectantly._

_“For a bit,” Alex stated slowly. “But we leave for Germany in a fortnight.”_

_Jamie scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “Right.”_

_They were both silent on the walk back to the train._

+

They’re in Frankfurt, sweating and riding the energy from the show they’ve just closed. It’s a trip, really, more than anything else Jamie has experienced. He’s a self-declared indie snob, always has been, and now that he’s a part of that scene, of the independent style of music he’s grown up on, he embraces the lifestyle as much as possible, and experiences as much as he has time for.

“One more pint,” Nick announces, though he’s coming round to a right slur in his words by this point.

Jamie checks his watch, and then glances across the bar to where Al and Matt are chatting up a handful of girls, all local. There’s a twitter of laughter, and he sees Al duck his head, blush, and then look up at the girl with her long, dark hair in a braid and blink his bedroom eyes at her.

Then suddenly, those eyes are looking Jamie’s way and he feels it right in his gut. It’s a pulse, and as Nick settles himself on the stool next to Jamie and shoves a fresh pint into the guitarist’s hand, Jamie feels his cheeks heat. He gladly accepts the pint Nick has proffered, and downs half with his eyes closed, spinning on the stool and facing the bar once more. But he feels Alex's eyes on his back, lingering, and then there’s another wave of laughter and a rise in Alex's voice, softly spouting contraband German that he grew up with, and winning over those unsuspecting birds with a flourish of his long lashes.

“Guys, there’s a party,” Matt announces as he sidles up to the bar, laughing as Alex is captured by the fluttering hands of females and pulled back for another word or seven.

“All right!” Nick muses, downing the rest of his beer. “I’m game.”

“Cookie, let’s go.” Matt’s already reaching for his wallet and clearing the tab. “S’not far, yeah? Twenty minute walk. Probably won’t even stay long,” he continues with a shrug. “Look at this wanker, he won’t last ten minutes.” Matt elbows Nick with a grin, and laughs as the bass player tackles him with a playful roar.

The suggestion of the party is merely prolonging the inevitable feeling of uncertainty that’s been plaguing Jamie since he got up that morning. All at once, he wanted to go back to the hotel, forget the next scene, but at the same time, he loathed the thought, and what might happen once they all settled in for the night. The night before had been rather...eye-opening, at least for him, as he was the one who was fully awake.

_He’d woken up palming his dick. And, really, it wouldn’t have been so much bother if he hadn’t, at that exact same moment, become painfully aware of the huffs and sighs coming from the other bed._

_They’re not at the state to be granted separate rooms and so they double up. He’d originally volunteered to room with Matt, but that had gone to pot as soon as they’d returned from the gig and started drinking. Nick had gotten wasted and passed out face first on Jamie’s bed, and so the only solution had been to follow a slightly more sober Alex down the hall to the room he’d been sharing with Nick when they’d first arrived._

_He’d crawled into the bed next to where Alex was curled up, and slurred good night around a yawn, and forced himself not to think about how Alex was sleeping less than six feet from him. He decided to think of Katie, instead, the tiny blonde with the magnificent tits who was his current object of desire (or so he liked to tell himself)._

_So, there was Jamie, dick in hand, and he tried to recall what he’d been dreaming about, and when he didn’t come up with blonde hair or nice tits, and instead came up with those coltish eyes and the dark fall of hair that swept over them, he’d choked on a groan and squeezed himself rather painfully, as if it would help._

_Then, he’d heard Alex, and Alex, it seemed, was very much asleep, but having a dream similar to the one that had awakened Jamie. Travelling for long periods of time in their small company didn’t allow for a lot of time alone, so there was a silent understanding: don’t ask, don’t tell, just roll over and go back to sleep. Jamie had heard his other two bandmates on a few occasions, and he was guilty of perhaps not following that understanding of theirs to the letter, at least not in the last clause, but he doubted he was the only one. The road was lonely, and they were as close as people could get without being siblings._

_Jamie’s cheeks flushed, as he heard Alex pant, and moan. The wet part of lips should have led to a murmured, “Alexa" - he was positively stunned when he heard his name being groaned in that crushed velvet voice. Then, the sheets had rustled, and there was enough light coming in from the city outside to warrant pale washes of sheets and skin, broken by shadows and the angle of Alex's jaw. Alex sprawled onto his back, the sheet slid down past his hips, and those long, graceful fingers disappeared under the simple black cotton of his boxer briefs._

_His hips went up with a gentle, “Jamie.”_

_They rolled, and paused, and twisted with a whine, and another huff. “Jamie.”_

_Jamie couldn’t help but stroke himself in time with Alex’s undulations._

_He couldn’t help the barely-there, whispering answer of Alex’s name._

_And, he couldn’t help but hold off on cumming until he heard Alex's whimper, and the deep, long moan, followed by a panting chant of, “Jameh, Jameh, Jameh - Fook!”_

_Jamie lay still, his ears ringing, his tongue between his teeth, and his come cooling on his belly and the fist still wrapped around his throbbing member. Alex groaned softly. When Alex’s breathing steadied, and softened, Jamie let go the breath he was holding, and trembled with the vividity of the moment._

+

It’s damp outside, and cool, but it’s comfortable for walking the short-ish distance to the Vagrant, a little club that is, while rather non-descript on the outside, very cozy, and rather reassuring on the inside. Jamie falls into a velvet-lined booth and scans the crowd as Matt gathers Nick under one arm and leads him to the bar. The flock they’d followed have dispersed, and found other friends, but the atmosphere is easygoing - Jamie feels like they haven’t seen the last of their hosts. 

Alex settles beside him, and immediately tips his head back against the velvet nap and sighs, and lets his body sag just a little bit in Jamie’s direction. “That were a good show,” Alex suggests, reaching for a cardboard coaster from the table and shredding it methodically.

“It were,” Jamie agrees, shifting in his seat as he watches Alex’s fingers flex and twist. An image comes next to Jamie, unwarranted, of Alex’s fingers flexing and twisting first around his own dick, and then around Jamie’s. He sits up straight and rubs his eyes, and then scrubs his palms over his thighs. He makes the mistake of looking at Alex next, and his stomach plummets to his toes in a sweet, tingling sweep. Alex is staring up at Jamie from where he slouches, his mouth lifted in his half-cocked smile.

“You were a little late on the opening for ‘Adolescent’,” Alex declares, still grinning.

“Fuck off, was not,” Jamie scoffs, reaching to shove Alex.

“I don’t fink anyone else noticed,” Alex continues, tilting his head and making a little pile out of the pieces of coaster. His lips are still quirked.

Jamie’s stomach twists a little, because he’s suddenly unsure of whether or not Al is taking the piss, or flirting, and Jamie hopes it’s a little bit of both.

“I won’t say owt’,” Alex drawls softly. His eyes lift back to Jamie’s.

There’s something there in those dark eyes, and Jamie instantly knows that Alex is talking about more than just the late entry on ‘Adolescent.’ Alex waits silently for Jamie to at least nod, and Jamie’s focused on the slip of Alex’s tongue over his lips, so all he can do is breathe out and bob his head once.

They don’t stay long at the club because, as Matt had predicted, Nick makes it through one and a half pints and then has to call it a night. When they head to the floor where their rooms are, Jamie casually throws out, “Me stuff’s already in t’other room,” with a shrug. “May as well crash there again.”

And _crash_ he does. He collides with the wall as soon as the door closes behind them, and Alex is crowding him, his mouth already roughly glancing off of Jamie’s. For a moment, Jamie panics, and wants to flail and thrash, but the thought is gone a second later when Alex grunts and sets his teeth into Jamie’s bottom lip. It’s enough to make Jamie gasp, and Alex takes advantage of that soft, open mouth, and slides his tongue against Jamie’s. The kiss is different from the one a few weeks back, and Jamie knows it’s because Alex has initiated it, and is taking the lead. Jamie can feel the desire backed with hesitation, and an anxious tremor runs up his spine.

Alex doesn't say anything at first, but he isn't silent, either. His whimpers feather through Jamie's senses, and his sighs are enough to make the guitarist go weak in the knees. Jamie's desperate to hear Alex's voice, to have the younger lad reassure him, because he's fairly certain he's going to shatter, or drown. 

"What, Jameh?" Alex's soft imploring cuts through the haze, and Jamie flushes when he realizes he's been murmuring Alex's name.

He takes a chance and opens his eyes, pale blue meeting those dark depths, and his clothes feel much too tight. Jamie struggles out of his jacket, and then hooks his arm behind Alex's neck to pull him back against him. This time, he starts the kiss, and he lets his tongue slip and wander in the warmth of Alex's mouth, while his fingers curl into the hem of the sweater Alex had pulled on over his t shirt as they'd left Vagrant.

It's not enough, of course, still separated by t shirts and heavy denim, and Jamie gets the sense that Alex feels the very same way. The frontman fits his fingers into Jaime's belt and then they're both eagerly sliding the other's shirts up and exposing the tender, hot flesh of their torsos.

Jamie's groan is swallowed by Alex's own. The younger lad is slender and pale, a stark comparison to Jamie's ruddy complexion, and more solid frame. But he feels like heaven pressed against Jamie, warm and breathing, and their hips bang into each other. 

Alex ups the ante and splays his fingers through the thick, golden waves of Jamie's hair. Jamie feels his head pulled back, and then his throat is assaulted with the wet, warm press of Alex's lips. Slowly, the kisses descend, scraping over Jamie's collarbone. The fingers Alex hooked on Jamie's belt snare the buckle, and gently work it open.

Jamie is helpless. He wants to touch Alex, but he's afraid of what it means, of how good the idea of touching Alex with same ferocity Alex is touching him actually feels. And it feels like it might be right, with his heart hammering so loudly he's afraid Alex will hear it, and the gasping and sighing with every shift of Alex's fingertips. Jamie wants to pull him close, push him away, push him down, to his knees. That last thought makes his hips flex into Alex's hands, and Alex smiles gently against Jamie's neck and presses his palm down over the front Jamie's jeans.

A broken and breathless moan floats up between them, and Alex leans back slightly to look at Jamie. He hasn't moved his hand, though, and he cups the guitarist through the worn denim of his jeans. 

Very softly, Alex asks, "Do you want me to stop?"

Jamie whimpers. He'd thought he'd been in control, that he'd be the one to take charge and check to proceed and be the voice of calm reassurance, but somehow Alex has beaten him to the punch, like maybe he's already done this.

"Have you ever..." Jamie breaks off, sweating and foolish, and the half a question hangs in the air before Alex is giving an easy shrug.

"Yeah, mate," he replies gently. Alex looks away, almost bashful, and despite the dimly lit entrance where they stand, Jamie swears he sees Alex’s face turn pink. Alex continues, "Not like... Not anyfin', like, serious, yeah?” He lifts his head and blinks those impossibly brown eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheekbones. When Alex next speaks, his voice is hoarse, and low, and Jamie’s twisting arousal swings low in his belly. “But kissing..." And here he pauses and gives Jamie a look of flirtatious reprimand. "Hm. Yeah, y'know.. An' touchin'...Once or twice, as it were." Alex ends off and licks his lips, regarding Jamie rather expectantly.

Jamie isn't sure what to do with his confession, and he regards Alex with new eyes. The fact that Alex is reserved, and at times painfully shy has always been obvious to Jamie, but now Alex seems rather... Confident. 

Sure. 

Jamie's grateful for it, at any rate, because he's not certain of his next step. He bites his tongue against asking Alex "who” in regards to the touching because he's pretty sure he has an idea, but he doesn't want to give it ground. Instead, he decides he wants kissing, and touching, with Alex, and so he pulls the dark-haired lad to him and sighs his name against his lips. His hips roll, giving Alex the green light to continue.

Instead, Jamie finds Alex becoming pliant, and then Jamie notices that he’s wrestling with Alex’s belt, and the button and the zipper on the fly go next. He’s on autopilot, and his hands shake so badly that Alex laughs very tenderly, and then shushes him with a soft kiss as he lays his hands over Jamie’s. The younger lad squeezes the guitarist’s hands, sliding callused fingers up to his wrists, until he’s grasping Jamie’s fly and tugging it open. Fabric is shoved aside, and there’s hisses and moans and then Jamie’s world suddenly narrows as he feels Alex’s hand circle around his very hard cock.

“Al,” Jamie stutters out, pulling his lips from Alex’s to stare down between them. “Oh, god, Al," he groans, and his head rolls back, eyes slip shut, the sight permanently burned onto his retinas: Alex is palming Jamie and himself together, those slender, graceful fingers strong and sure - and hot - as they wrap around both cocks and tighten. Jamie reaches up, his shaking hand landing on Alex’s, but instead of stopping him, he joins in, squeezes around the other side where Alex’s fingers don’t touch, and if this isn’t the best secret handshake ever, then Jamie doesn’t know anything anymore.

“Fookin’ ‘ell, Cookie,” Alex mumbles, before sharply inhaling at the heat of Jamie’s hand. Jamie’s reply is a rough squeeze, his fist moving up and dragging Alex’s with his, and the two of them groan thickly. Their mouths meet again, lazy, and wet, and when they break apart with a gasp, it’s to rest their foreheads together and gulp for air while their hands move faster. Their free hands hook behind the other’s neck, holding themselves, and the other, down to earth has much as possible.

The feeling is unlike anything Jamie’s ever experienced, and he wonders just what kind of touching Alex has actually done: the wide-eyed wonder on the younger lad’s face is full of surprise, and wanting. For a moment, Jamie focuses on how smooth the delicate skin of Alex’s shaft feels as it slides over his, and the heat of the younger lad's cock, the press of the firm, swollen head against his own. His eyes cross when he discovers that the clear fluid steadily beading at the tips of their erections is sliding down, mixing, slipping over both of them. It makes a surge of lust whip up his spine, and that in turn makes Jamie snarl, and snag Alex’s mouth with his own, teeth sinking gently into that bottom lip.

Alex lets loose a ragged moan, his breath hot and fanning over Jamie’s cheek. It only makes Jamie stroke faster, still fascinated with the feeling of Alex hard and pressed against him, swelling and thickening in his hand, and the sound of the dark-eyed lad moaning, panting his name, grunting, squeezing those eyes shut.

“Jameh...m’gonna come,” Alex warns suddenly, words wet and quivering.

The words bubble in Jamie’s veins and suddenly everything is rushing through his blood, soaring between his hips, and he barely has time to grunt, “Coming!” before he’s crying out sharply and splashing his hand, and Alex’s, with an eruption of hot come.

Alex comes a second later, just as wet, just as hot, and just as long, and Jamie is still stroking, his fingers sticky and slippery, sliding over the throbbing lengths of their cocks. With a rather surprised cry, Alex rocks forward, and kisses Jamie breathless. He’s boneless as he leans against Jamie, pressing his face into Jamie’s neck and sighing.

Jamie’s lashes flutter as he sags against the wall, and the weight of Alex is all at once comforting and suffocating. He shifts, nudging his shoulder into Alex’s when the younger boy doesn’t stir right away.

“C’mere,” Alex finally mumbles, taking the hint with Jamie’s movements. “C’mon, get you cleaned up,” he drawls, wiping his hand on the bottom of his t-shirt, and then lifting it to his mouth. There’s still a trace there, of him, or of Jamie, but most likely both, and Alex flicks his gaze to Jamie’s as his tongue slips over the soft spot at the base of his thumb. “S’okay, Jameh,” Alex says softly. “Don’t hafta mean owt’.”

But the affectionate, thorough manner in which Alex slides the warm, wet washcloth over Jamie’s belly means the world to him, as does the way Alex gently urges Jamie to lay down, and close his eyes, and sleep peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to nmbr1fanilow who took the time and care to read, point out my mistakes, and ask the questions that needed to be asked.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @kittykillswitch


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before. There's a shift in this chapter, we sort of go from the beginning of their tour with The Rascals to right when Alex announces he's going to Paris to record with Miles. Some of you may disagree with the way I've portrayed Miles, but I like using him as a foil for these two, and he's great at swaying Alex's interest at times. I'm certain IRL Miles is a perfectly sound fellow and Jamie and he get along quite well. Also, there's mention of Katie Downes and Alexa Chung from here on out, but they're not really pivotal players, and only there to add to the tension that's mounting. Anyway, here's some boys doing things to each other.

_“C’mere,” Alex finally mumbles, taking the hint with Jamie’s movements. “C’mon, get you cleaned up,” he drawls, wiping his hand on the bottom of his t-shirt, and then lifting it to his mouth. There’s still a trace there, of him, or of Jamie, but most likely both, and Alex flicks his gaze to Jamie’s as his tongue slips over the soft spot at the base of his thumb. “S’okay, Jameh,” Alex says softly. “Don’t hafta mean owt’.”_

_But the affectionate, thorough manner in which Alex slides the warm, wet washcloth over Jamie’s belly means the world to him, as does the way Alex gently urges Jamie to lay down, and close his eyes, and sleep peacefully._

+

He woke up alone. Alex’s shit was everywhere, disorganized as he was, but the young man himself had vanished. Jamie felt a pinch of disappointment, and then frowned. Should he be feeling disappointed? He thought he should be feeling disoriented, or perhaps just... _off_ , but he knew where he was, remembered exactly what had happened last night, and _was_ disappointed because Alex hadn’t been there when he woke up.

He got up and got dressed, and headed down to the restaurant for breakfast. Maybe Alex had headed out early, completely famished after a night of drinking. But when Jamie got downstairs, he was disappointed, again, to see that he was the only Monkey out of bed. He took a booth next to the window, and ordered, and Nick had appeared about half an hour ago, but Jamie was still rolling over the question of Alex’s whereabouts around in his head.

“You all right?”

Jamie glances up from his breakfast and looks at Nick. “Sure,” he shrugs, staring at his plate. “What makes you ask?”

“Well,” Nick sighs. “You’ve been starin’ at them taters for a good ten minutes,” he explains, reaching to snag a few of the aforementioned hashbrowns. He munches for a moment before continuing. “An’ you ‘aven’t touched your coffee.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and pushes his plate away. “Suppose m’not hungry.”

Nick shrugs, and then he’s speaking, waving to someone across the restaurant. “There’s Al n’Matt - hey, over here!” Nick directs them to their table and Jamie shifts anxiously in his seat, wondering where - 

“Goodness, that were quite the piss-up last night,” Matt groans, flopping down next to Jamie. He reaches across the table for the two-sided menu and glances at it. “Don’t know if me belly can handle food this mornin’’,” he adds, more to himself. 

Nick is busy smiling at the waitress who’s come by with coffee, so Jamie takes a chance to look across the table at Alex. He’s not entirely sure what happened the night before; or rather, how it got to that point, but he feels his pulse bouncing in his guts, and a warm twist of remembrance spreads through Jamie from the hips out.

Alex’s mouth lifts softly in reassurance, and Jamie swallows.

“Are you going to eat that?”

Jamie is pulled from his memories and stiffens at Alex’s lazy drawl. He feels his cheeks heat and he widens his eyes at Alex like Alex might be able to read his thoughts. Maybe he can, but he merely smirks and nods at Jamie’s breakfast, still relatively untouched.

“Nah,” Jamie chokes out, sliding the plate away.

“Looks good,” Alex continues, picking up Jamie’s fork and pulling the plate towards him. “Saves me from gettin’ me own.” He listens as Matt fumbles through his order, and helps him out.

“Spoke wiv Greg this mornin’,” Matt pipes up after settling his order with the waitress. “They’re eager to meet up when we get back home.”

Alex grins as he shovels Jamie’s breakfast into his mouth. “If they’re anyfin’ like Miles, it’ll be sound, yeah? They’re joinin’ us for T in the Park?” Alex chews loudly, and then gulps his coffee, and avoids Jamie’s glances all together.

Matt nods, not noticing how Jamie has paled at the mention of Miles’s name. “An’ most of France, and Spain.”

“S’gonna be a shit show,” Nick declares, adding more sugar to his coffee.

Jamie feels trapped in the booth as the three others plod on about touring with The Rascals. They’re a fairly good band with a smooth sound, but ever since Miles had played on _505_ , there’s been this sort of...vortex surrounding Alex, like he was being pulled and twisted in a direction that wasn’t necessarily the same route the rest of them were going. It’s a bit of a concern, at least for Jamie, because Jamie knows Alex rather well (or he feels like he does, at any rate) and he knows that Alex needs time, and solitude, and sometimes to totally cut himself off from outside influences to really work. Jamie just hopes Alex eventually finds his way back. He’s certain that the band just wouldn’t do with another frontman, and he’s certain that he wouldn’t do with a replacement for Alex.

The rest of breakfast passes in a blur, and Jamie drifts in and out of conversation, letting his coffee grow cold. When Matt slides out of the booth and Nick follows, Alex takes a moment to scoot around to Jamie’s side, and his slender thigh presses up against Jamie’s as he leans in.

“You’re startin’ to worry me, Cookie,” Alex hums, looking down at his hands. “You didn’t say nowt durin’ breakfast, an’ you look like you’re gonna maybe throw up, or cry. Did I…” Alex looks up, and Jamie wants to kiss him and punch him all at the same time. Those damn dark brown eyes are so fucking concerned that now Jamie feels rendered in two. Alex has always been a slippery subject, able to work his way into shapes to remove himself from a situation. He’d come down to breakfast without batting so much as an eyelash to his absence in the room and now - 

“Did I do summat...or say anyfin’...you know...I thought it were fun. I thought you liked it-”

“I _did_ like it,” Jamie snaps in a harsh whisper. He huffs and twists his fingers together. “I mean I _do_. I mean…” His belly clenches, and he scowls at how he’s tripping on words. Jamie doesn’t falter - it’s not his style. He’s the one who’s cut and dry, but he’s certain now that Alex has been wringing uncertainty from him since that first kiss.

“Good,” Alex replies softly. “Because I like it, too. You an’ me. We’ve been friends a long time, Jameh, an I really don’t want anyfin’ to ruin that.”

“O...okay,” Jaime answers slowly. He’s not sure what Alex is saying. He’s not even sure Alex knows what he’s saying. “Where...ehhm...you were up early,” Jamie prods, not wanting to blurt out Where were you like some sort of suspicious...lover. Again - not his style. He’s always known where he’s stood in any relationship. 

But this isn’t just any relationship. Jamie’s head begins to throb with a dull ache, and he closes his eyes breifly.

“Got up around four, went for a walk, ‘ad a smoke, wrote a bit,” Alex replies with a shrug. He shakes his head and hums, and then moves closer to Jamie. 

“I thought…” Jamie trails off and berates himself for being such a sap. He opens his eyes with a breath and his met with Alex’s undivided attention in the form of a soul-cutting stare.

“You expectin’ to wake up in me arms?” Alex asks softly. There’s no teasing in his voice, but the words still sting Jamie.

“No,” Jamie replies, a little petulant.

“Hm. I wanted to stay. Couldn’t sleep is all. Didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jamie bites his lip and glances about the restaurant, half expecting to see Matt and Nick lurking, and hearing everything he and Alex are spouting off. With a shake of his head, Jamie sits straight, and reaches for his water. He hums a non-committed reply at Alex, and takes a huge gulp of water.

“Went a bit mad for it, dint ya?” Alex murmurs, leaning another inch into Jamie’s space. “Havin’ a wank on me cock? Hm. Felt fookin’ fantastic, that.”

Jamie chokes, water dribbling down his chin, and sputters and coughs until he regains composure. “Alex!” Jamie hisses, his eyes going wide.

“God, you’re lovely when you blush, too.”

Jamie inhales shakily, and watches as Alex’s lips tilt with a soft, almost secret smile, and stares dreamily out the window. Something tells Jamie that he’s lit some fuse that he didn’t know was there in the first place. Now it seems as though it might be too late, because the sparks are snapping, and his heart is beginning to blister and burn.

+

He wants to hate Miles.

It’d be easy to hate him, with the way he hangs on Alex, the way he talks about him, the way he _looks_ at him. It’d be _very_ easy to hate him, Jamie decides, if Alex weren’t smiling and giggling and looking at Miles the same way he looks at Jamie. When Jamie wonders if Alex looks at Alexa like that, he’s promptly reminded of Katie, and then he starts to overanalyze that relationship, and he makes it a point to look at Katie the same way that Alex looks at Miles. After all, Katie dotes on him, adores him, really, according to her mum, and his, and, ‘she’s gorgeous, Jamie, an absolute stunner. Your mum is so proud,’ his dad adds after dinner one night.

He wants to hate Miles harder when Alex announces he’s headed to Paris to make a record with Miles, something they’ve been discussing now for almost a year. Jamie doesn't remember when, but suddenly Miles was showing up in their bus, in their hotel rooms, at the same pubs or parties while they were on the road. He’s an alright lad, for a Scouser, and buys rounds, and flirts with the foreign trim that runs about, looking fit in short skirts and high heels. But he also flirts with Alex, or is just entirely too friendly for someone outside of their little club. And yet Nick doesn’t mind as long as he’s got a pint in front of him, and Matt just fucking loves everybody anyway, and could get along with a leper in an elevator, and Alex -

“Cookie, the brunette at the bar has been makin’ eyes at ya for ten minutes. You gonna act on that?” Nick chuckles, already moving out of the booth.

He knows Jamie will say ‘no’, but the reasoning behind it is a little foggy for Nick to comprehend.

It’s not like Jamie doesn’t _look_ , he can’t not look. Just because he’s been harboring this ache for Alex for over a year now doesn’t mean Jamie doesn’t fancy a bit of fancy every now and again. Katie doesn’t need to know, and Nick’s shagging everyone so he can’t say anything anyway, and Matt - well, Matt had talked him into a pair of redheads last month, twins, actually, and he won’t soon forget the look on Al’s face when Matt had boasted about it the next morning, “Cookie shagging the ever-loving shite outta the younger one.” The pale, prominent features had been a veneer of surprise, and hurt, those brown eyes blinking widely as Alex settled back and became hyper-focused on the Twinings floating in his cup. Jamie had backed away from foreign relations then, feeling guilty about hurting Alex’s feelings.

But they’d never talked about it; and then Alex had gone and started cozying up with Miles more than he had before. They laughed at inside jokes, and were photographed together on too many occasions to count. To make it worse, Alexa was often snapped with them, a happy little trio on glossy pages. And Alex flirted with Miles, blatantly disregarding Jamie, which was one thing, but he did it in front of Alexa, too, and she seemed fine with it, or didn’t notice, or didn’t want to notice, and Jamie has begun to wonder what kind of person Alex is growing into, and how that is perhaps directly affecting him. Alex has always been the shy one, the one to blush, and duck out of conversation, grow agitated with things he didn’t know; he’d always been sensitive to others around him, picking up on shifting moods and being careful to consider everyone’s feelings but his own. Now it seems that Alex is living very much for the moment, and for himself, and his desires, and Jamie is the one that is more cautions, and conscious.

Jamie quickly glances to where he’d last seen Alex, and there he is, still slouched against the bar as Miles cozies up to him, and yammering on about something. The Scouser tries to look interested in the women walking by, but the hand gently toying with Alex’s collar tells a different story altogether.

“Nick!” Jamie suddenly calls out, stumbling after the bass player.

He catches Nick before he’s reached the brunette at the bar, and pulls him back with a wink. “Sit the fuck down, mate. She were lookin’ at me.”

Nick grins, and laughs, lifting his hands in surrender. “Bout time, mate.”

+

He doesn’t fuck the brunette, doesn’t even try to, but he lets her hang all over him, and he’s pleasant and makes her laugh (and what a fucking awful laugh), but at the end of the night, she says he’s sweet, and kisses him on the cheek and leaves with her friends. 

“Thought she were a sure thing.”

Jamie looks up from his phone and sees Miles settle against the bar next to him and flag down the bartender for a pint. Jamie quickly glances around, searching for Alex, and Miles continues to speak.

“He left earlier. Said somethin’ bout a stomach ache.” Miles looks up and flicks his brown eyes over Jamie.

Jamie frowns. “He okay?” He’s a little pissed that Miles didn’t have the sense to see Alex safely back to the hotel.

“Yeah, I think so,” Miles continues, narrowing his gaze. “Came on real sudden.”

“Do any of the other guys know?” Jamie’s already pulling on his coat and settling his tab.

“Nah. Said he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.” He stops Jamie with a hand on his arm. “What’s going on between you two?”

Jamie draws a surprised breath, and he’s stymied to see that Miles looks just as shocked with the question he’s just asked. The Scouser has the sense to pull his hand away as blood rushes Jamie’s face. “Sorry,” he blurts out, face heating as fast as Jamie’s has. “I’m sorry, s’not my business.”

Jamie scowls and shrugs away from Miles. “M’goin’ to check on Alex.”

“He were fine until he saw you an’ the brunette you were chatting up,” Miles calls after him. 

It’s enough to make Jamie’s steps freeze, and he lets out a breath before glaring at Miles. The look in Miles’s eyes is familiar; it shows up on his own face the morning after a night spent with Alex: a sad combination of trepidation and elation. He doesn’t linger on it there, however, and instead makes his exit, and heads towards the hotel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine. Lets build some tension, shall we? Let's make a mess, lioness. Not really much to tell here, it is what it is. Oh! There's another little bit of Dominant!Alex because that's something that is overlooked far too often, innit?
> 
> Enjoy. I always do.

Nick is passed out in his bed.

It may as well be Nick’s bed, for all the time he spends in it, but Jamie had been paired with Matt again and now Nick is snoring loudly, still in his shirt and jeans from earlier, his shoes kicked off and sitting at the end of the bed.

Matt is snoring just as loudly in the opposite bed, and Jamie sighs, sagging against the wall of the front entrance, and weighing his options. He could take the couch; it looks incredibly uncomfortable, and he never sleeps well on them anyway. He knows for a fact that he won’t sleep down the hall in the bed that’s vacant in Alex’s room, either, because he doesn’t really sleep when he’s in Alex’s room. He sort of drifts in and out, but he never lets himself fully relax because he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be there or be gone in the morning. He and Alex haven’t really covered any sort of ground rules for what they’re doing - Jamie’s not even sure what it _is_ that they’re doing. 

Still, he finds himself staring at the numbers on the door to Alex’s room, and he raises and lowers his hand to knock a few times before the door suddenly swings open. Startled, Jamie takes a step back, and so does Alex, and for a moment, they just stare at each other.

“Jameh.” Alex is the first to breathe, to speak, and to blink, and he seems flustered, more so than he usually does these days.

“Hey,” Jamie returns lamely.

“What are you doin’ here?”

_I’m here because I don’t know what we are_. He thinks it, but he doesn’t say it, because god forbid he appear too soft, too sentimental. Instead, Jamie answers with an awkward shrug. “Ehhhh….Nick’s passed out in me bed.”

Alex looks Jamie over and tries to hide a frown. He slips out of the room, between Jamie and the wall, and shrugs. “I’m goin’ for a smoke.” He gestures towards the room. “I'll be...Later.”

“Are you alright?” Jamie rushes to ask before Alex disappears around the corner towards the elevators.

Alex pauses, and he doesn’t turn around right away. When he does, though, his face is ashen, and he’s narrowing his eyes in that way that tells Jamie he’s overprocessing his thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Alex mumbles, arching an eyebrow.

Jamie pauses and for a split second he wonders if perhaps Miles has set a trap, using Alex as bait. “Miles said you left-”

“What else did Miles tell you?”

Jamie blinks, first at the chill in Alex’s voice, and then at the question itself. “That you...erm...you weren’t feelin’ well,” Jamie answers brokenly. “Summat ‘bout your stomach.”

“An’ you came to check on me?”

“Well,” Jamie looks around the hall, and then shrugs. “Yeah. I mean...can’t have the frontman feelin’ sick.”

Alex nods, but he doesn’t seem too taken with Jamie’s answer. “Hm. How about that brunette then, yeah? She were gorgeous, mate. If I were you, an’ I was steppin’ out on Katie, surely that bird’d be a good fuck.”

Jamie’s guts boil at the mention of Katie, not because he feels guilty (okay, maybe a little guilty), but because he’s not sure what game Alex is playing. They’d both flirted with brunettes that night, anyway, only Jamie had wanted Alex to be the brunette, and Alex had been too busy being wooed by a Scouser.

“Al,” Jamie says, shaking his head. “I were talkin’ to her because…” he shrugs and feels helpless. _I were talkin’ to her because you were too busy lettin’ Kane fawn all over you._ “Don’t really matter, yeah? I mean...I’m here. I didn’t do owt’ wiv her.”

Alex looks up from where he’s been staring at the awful carpet of the hotel hallway. “Yeah, I figured, since I found you outside me room.” His mouth softens, as do his eyes.

Jamie takes a breath that feels a little less constricted with anxiety. “It weren’t because I didn’t…” he waves his hand, moving the thought aside. “I was worried ‘bout you, is all.”

“Hm,” Alex muses. “M'better now,” he replies. He holds up his cigarette and a lighter. “I’m...do you...We should maybe...I dunno...talk?”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, and he falls in step with Alex to the elevators.

The ride down is silent.

The cigarette is silent, too, for the most part, other than when Alex curses at his empty lighter, and Jamie comes up with a disposable that he’s had stashed in his pocket all night. Alex inhales and exhales, rings flitting up every now and again. They look at each other a lot.

Jamie’s got to know. He’s got to know about- 

“You an’ Miles,” Jamie starts off. “Is there...summat there...I mean he seemed...dunno… he asked what was going on with you an’ me.”

Alex’s eyes widen at Jamie’s rambling admission, and he sniffs and exhales a stream of smoke before pitching the butt aside.

“An’ you told him…?”

“Nowt,” Jamie supplies. “I didn’t tell him anyfing about anyfing.” Jamie looks away, up the sidewalk to where cabbies are pulled to the curb and people spill in and out of the little cars. _Can’t exactly tell him something if I don’t know what the answer is._ “But he were askin’ like there’s maybe...dunno. Ehm...summat for him to be jealous of.”

“Look, Jameh, if you’re askin’ if Miles an’ I are a thing, then the answer is no.”

Jamie is a little surprised with the answer. He’d set himself up for the worst scenario. “Oh.”

“And,” Alex continues, “if you’re asking what’s going on between you an’ I, I haven’t the foggiest. You tell me.”

Jamie fidgets with the zipper on his jacket. “Thought it were nowt. That we’re joost friends.”

Alex’s mouth presses into a grim line. “Aye. Friends.” He moves towards the door, but Jamie’s hand stops him when it presses into his chest.

“That’s it? You’re joost gonna walk away?”

Alex scowls. “What tha fook do ya want me to say, Jamie?”

“I don’t want you to go to Paris,” Jamie suddenly blurts out.

His fervent expression makes Alex scoff rather bitterly. “Jamie,” he begins softly.

But Jamie’s shaking his head and turning Alex with his hands until the younger lad is facing him, and standing less than two inches away. “I wanna stay wiv you,” Jamie says in a small voice. “Joost tonight. An’ I want you to be there when I wake up.”

Alex nods, and turns silent once more.

The ride up is silent.

The walk down the hallway is silent, too.

When they’re finally back in the room, the sound of the door closing behind them is like a gun going off, and Jamie’s heart begins to race as Alex turns to look at him with those large, unblinking eyes.

“If you wanna joost sleep...we don’t hafta... “ Alex shrugs awkwardly.

Jamie hates the uncertainty that’s coming off of Alex in waves. It’s never been like this, not even when they were teenagers, when they were first testing waters and limits. So, Jamie takes the lead, and moves forward so that Alex has no choice but to back away, further into the room. He’s not scared though; on the contrary, Jamie sees a flicker of excitement flare in those dark irises that are trained on him, and so Jamie takes a chance, and cups Alex’s face with his broad hands, and pours himself into a hot, melting kiss.

Alex warms to it instantly, and before Jamie knows it he’s shoving the younger boy onto the bed and grinding his pelvis down, as Alex very enthusiastically meets Jamie’s frantic rutting, bucking upwards. He’s a lovely swath of smooth, pale skin, Jamie realizes, as he pushes Alex’s thin t shirt up. He backs away long enough to let Alex untangle his arms from the cotton, and then Alex is grasping at Jamie’s hips, pulling him down, his cold, clever fingers sliding up under Jamie’s shirt and stroking the fine, soft hairs on Jamie’s belly. The tip of Jamie’s tongue curls over his lip as Alex groans sharply, and he pants and whines as Jamie toys with his nipples, each bite and suck turning Alex into a writhing, lithe, little creature that is anything but shy or fragile. In the next moment, Alex snares Jamie’s hair, pulls and twists, and Jamie moves with Alex’s frantic urging, caught up in everything that is Alex. His nose is firmly pressed into the soft, sweet-smelling skin below Alex’s belly button. Here, Jamie hesitates, and Alex ups the ante once more.

“On your knees, Cookie,” Alex breathes.

And sure enough, Jamie finds himself on his knees, staring up at Alex, as Alex fists Jamie’s hair in one hand, and slips his belt open with the other.

“I want you to suck me,” Alex purrs, eyes half mast, cheeks flushed and glowing.

Jamie’s heart stops, and he feels a tight, pulsing heat settle in his belly. He opens his mouth to reply, but Alex is already pursing his lips and parting his fly. 

“There’s a good lad,” Alex whispers, curling his fingers behind Jamie’s ear and winding the golden waves round his digits. “Take it out, Jamie.” Leaning down, he captures Jamie’s hand, which has been curled on his thigh up until this point, and Jamie watches, removed, as Alex presses the hand against his fly. “I’m outta me mind wiv you,” Alex confesses hoarsely.

Jamie tears his gaze from where his fingers are dipping below the waist of Alex’s briefs, and he looks to Alex, to find the younger lad watching him with dazed lust. “Alex,” Jamie huffs, before lifting his other hand to settle on the back of Alex’s thigh. He tugs at the warm, snug cotton of Alex’s briefs, and his breath leaves him when the soft, hot, steel-and-velvet head of Alex’s cock brushes his jaw. He smells sweet, and musky. Alex’s eyelashes flutter, and his nostrils flare as his teeth dig into his lip. Jamie’s eyes drift down once more as he pulls Alex forward.

There’s no going back now.

+

He lies awake, on his back, the other bed still tucked tight and made, while beside him Alex sprawls and snores softly, one hand cupping Jamie’s hip, a long, lean leg thrown around Jamie’s thigh. Idly, Jamie’s strokes his fingers through Alex’s thick hair, and he inhales, smelling the soft, almost spicy scent that is the lad curled into him. 

His throat is a little rough, emotion snagging his breath, and previous activities make it ache.

_God, Cookie, look a’tha’._

Alex had been soft in his expressions, reverent, and his hands had shook as he smoothed Jamie’s hair back from his face to watch with glassy eyes as Jamie swallowed around him, and rolled his tongue. It excited him, feeling Alex fill his throat, hot, and hard.

His knees are raw, too, having been ground into the carpet.

_Sit back, Al,_ he remembers whispering.

And he remembers pulling Alex back between his lips, taking in the scent, and the taste, and the sounds - god, the sounds - of holding Alex rather precariously, one hand clasped on the frontman’s thigh, the other working his own jeans open to relieve the pressure there.

Jamie swallows, and remembers swallowing, and realizes that he wasn’t the least bit concerned with the salty mouthful so much as he was intrigued by the long, low moan that curled from Alex’s chest and rang around the confines of the hotel room. He’d growled softly when he was spent, and tugged Jamie’s hair until Jamie came up for air. Gasping for his own breath, Alex had taken in Jamie’s state, sweating, shaking, teetering on the edge of relief, and then Alex had fallen to the floor in front of Jamie. He took over for Jamie’s fist, gripping and stroking the guitarist until Jamie had tensed and his belly was quivering. The brush of Alex’s mouth against his made Jamie whimper, and then Alex’s tongue slid along his, tasting Jamie, and himself, moaning and whining all over again as Jamie exploded long and hard on Alex’s fingers and the tops of his thighs.

"Next time," Alex had whispered before they drifted off, "I want ya in me mouf. Want everfin’ you can give me, Cookie."

And _Fuck, Alex,_ Jamie thinks, _I want to be able to give you everything, too._

+


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Short-ish chapter here, folks, but I did, after all, update on the weekend...and if I'm feeling it, I may decide to update once more before the weekend. Just because I'm having such a great time writing this. All the chapters up until now have been from Jamie's POV with little insight into Alex, and I decided this would be a perfect opportunity to give him a little bit of time, and a chance to work things over.

“Baby!”

Jamie freezes at the voice, and then turns slowly to see Katie untangle her arm from where it is looped through Miles’, and the blonde bounces across the lobby and into Jamie’s arms.

Jamie fumbles to catch her, and is distinctly aware of how Alex backs off, as if burned. Katie’s mouth covers his, and he can’t help the hard line his lips press into. The kiss - and Katie - have shocked his system, and not in a good way.

“Katie,” Jamie says rather dumbly, taking hold of her upper arms and holding her steadily. “What are ya...I mean...I thought you were booked until October?”

Katie flashes her heartbreaker smile. “That’s no way to greet your girlfriend, Jamie,” she pouts playfully. “I thought I’d surprise you!”

Jamie grins, albeit a little painfully, because yes, Katie has succeeded in doing just that. “I’m surprised,” he nods. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago - I was having coffee with Miles! I didn’t expect to see him down here, but he said he were waiting for Alex and I haven’t talked to Miles in ages, so we decided to wait together. Alex, hi!” 

“Katie,” Alex greets in a hoarse voice.

“Al, you slept late for once?” Miles chimes in, sliding his gaze towards Jamie.

For his part, Jamie chooses to ignore Miles, but Alex hums, and then shrugs, and steps a little closer to the Scouser. “Must ‘ave been tired.”

Miles snorts and grits out, ‘I bet,’ but once more, Jamie ignores the dig. For a moment, the four hang in a rather strange silence, eyes cutting this way, and that, until finally ( _thank Christ_ ) Nick appears with Matt in tow.

It’s when the plate is set before him that Jamie decides he likes breakfast about as much as he does Miles. Over-easy eggs wobble rather uneasily, and the bacon is limp, but Jamie merely chugs orange juice and tugs at the collar of his shirt, wondering if any of Alex’s rather exuberant bite-marks can be seen. He looks up at one point and finds Miles eyeing him suspiciously, and then he has the nerve to lean into Katie’s space to murmur something, which makes the blonde giggle hysterically and sigh, rolling her eyes at Miles before shooting Jamie a soft smile.

Alex drops his fork unceremoniously, and it clatters, and he pushes his chair away from the table while announcing that he’s going for a cigarette. Jamie’s already rising when Miles all but jumps from his own seat, giving Jamie a rather pointed look before telling Alex, “I’ll go with ya.”

Jamie’s face flushes as he falls back to his seat, and he looks across the table to see Katie cocking her head at him curiously. “You alright, Jamie?” she asks. “You look tired, baby - is Alex keeping you up at night?” Her small fingers reach and comb a rogue wave of Jamie’s hair behind his ear as she frowns at him.

He chokes on the mouthful of orange juice he’s just swigged to get rid of his dry mouth. Through much sputtering and coughing, and one hefty swat on the back from Matt, Jaime shakes his head, eyes watering, and croaks out, “No.” When he’s got his breath back, he smiles at Katie, though it feels rather forced, and takes her hand from his hair and squeezes it between his fingers, before pressing his lips to the knuckles. “I’m fine,” he reassures her. “Tired from the shows, is all.”

Her smile is brilliant. “Well, I hope you’re not too tired to come with me today - I wanted to go shopping for a bit this morning, then I thought we could have lunch together on the beach? Just the two of us?”

“Ehm…” Jamie mumbles, and then shrugs. “Yeah, I suppose. No show tonight, yeah?” He relaxes a fraction as Katie’s smile brightens. “I’d love to take you out, Katie.” And the truth is, he is rather keen on the idea. At least with Katie, he knows where he stands, knows what he’s supposed to do, and who he’s supposed to be, even though deep down, he knows he’s just lying to himself.

+

“Fancy Katie showin’ up like that.”

Alex narrows his eyes where he stares at a single paving stone of fifty, and shrugs at Miles’ topic of conversation.

“I mean...it were a surprise, yeah? He didn’t know she were coming?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that, Miles?” Alex snaps, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah, she was supposed to be booked until October or summat, an’ now she’s here in Madrid.”

“Convenient,” Miles quips.

Alex ignores the barb and thinks back, going over every conversation he’s had with Jamie (verbal and otherwise), trying to remember if Jamie mentioned anything about Katie coming to Spain. “Jamie looked surprised,” he defended softly. “I don’t think he expected her.”

“Jamie’s been looking a lot like that as of late,” Miles points out. “Al, I know it’s not me business, aye, but...there’s something there, yeah? With you an’ Jamie?”

Alex eyes Miles for a long moment and weighs his options. He hasn’t told _anyone_ about Jamie, not even Matt, and he tells Matt most everything. And he certainly doesn’t want to say anything now, not with Alexa in the picture. He forces himself to meet Miles’ dark honey gaze and shrugs. “Nah. Nowt,” he fibs. “Joost friends.” That part isn’t a lie; isn’t that what Jamie had said last night? That they were just friends?

_Friends don’t blow each other like it’s their dying wish_ , Alex’s conscience pipes up. He feels his cheeks heat, and then the cool brush of Miles’ fingers on the back of his hand “Al...you’re, like...a million miles away, mate,” he sighs. The grin that follows is charming, in the most disarming way, and Alex hears himself sigh before he leans on Miles’ shoulder.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. “M’not very good company these days, am I? Can we...talk about somethin’ else? The record - Paris, Miles! Fookin’ hell, _Paris_!”

Miles nods and licks his lips, and throws an arm around Alex’s shoulders to pull him close. “I know, Al. An’ we got so much to cover before November, yeah? Lyrics, and chords...an the order of the songs! We _‘ave_ t’do that Bowie cover. That has to be on there.”

All laughs and nods, and ignores the plummet his stomach takes to his shoes as the lyrics he’s sung along to while strumming start to flit through his head: _wouldn’t you like to love me too, in the heat of the morning_. He’d sung it that morning in the shower, while Jamie had continued to snore softly in bed. They’d dressed slowly, with glances at one another, and small, impish smiles. They’d left the safety of the hotel room rather giddily, a stark change from the sobriety of the night before when Jamie had first shown up. The elevator ride down was quiet again, but charged, and they’d stared at each other the whole way down. They’d stepped off the car and into the lobby feeling like they were walking on air until…

Until Katie...and Miles...Miles and Katie…

And, if Alex really thinks about it, the smile Miles was sporting before breakfast didn’t quite reach those brown eyes that were now watching him.

“It’s better this way,” Miles is saying, lighting his own cigarette from the forgotten butt between Alex’s fingers. “For the band, yeah?" He blows out a stream of smoke and looks Alex straight in the eye: he's always had this way of seeing through the layers of Alex's words. His next statement is sobering: "It’s better things end there, an’ don’t come about, for the sake of the band.”

“And Alexa,” Alex adds quickly.

Miles scoffs. “Right. And Alexa.” He takes another drag from his cigarette and pitches it aside, even though it’s not even half finished. Then, he’s sauntering back into the hotel lobby, and Alex, for some reason, decides to follow.


	6. Chapter 6

“There’s somethin’ missin’ ‘ere,” Alex mutters, scratching out a word and scribbling a new couplet in the margin. He’s been working on the lyrics for days now, and it feels like there’s some sort of...blockage. Four days in Paris and he and Miles have recorded two of ten tracks, both of them good - better than good, really - but this one is elusive, like it doesn’t want to be completed. He thought it was finished, but after putting it to music, there was something not quite...epic enough for the sweeping sound of the orchestra.

With a frustrated growl, Alex pitches the pencil aside and sags into the couch where he’s been sitting for the last six hours, holed up in the studio, two am slowly rolling around, and the end of the song nowhere in sight.

A buzzing in his pocket brings him round, and he shifts until he can cram his hand into his front pocket and pull out his phone. The message is from Miles, and Alex unlocks the phone so he can read it:

_**You still at the stuido?** _

Alex types a quick _**yes**_ , and waits for Miles’ reply, which comes almost right away.

_**I’ll be right there.** _

_**It’s fine**_ , Alex sends. _**Just stuck on a lyric**_.

Miles returns, _**I’m coming anyway**_.

Alex doesn’t bother trying to reply; he knows that Miles will come down to the studio no matter how much Alex protests. He doesn’t need Miles present to work on this. He swipes back to the list of conversations and his thumb hovers over one near the top of the list. It’s a quick ‘how are things going’ text with Alexa, and below that one is an unsent beginning to a conversation, _**Hey, Cookie. I’m in Paris now. Been thinking about you.**_

Alex wrinkles his nose and quickly deletes both conversations, and then, in a fit of anxiety, he deletes all of them, the most recent with Miles, to the one from four days ago with Matt. Then, he tosses the phone beside him on the cushion, and leans back with another rough sigh.

+

_“I’m really going to miss you, Al,” Alexa hummed, swirling the contents of her gin and orange juice. She smiled that killer smile of hers, and blinked blue-green eyes at him, tilting her head and leaning against the kitchen wall._

_Alex smiled drunkenly and looped long arms around her waist, dropping his forehead to hers. “I’ll miss you, too, Lex,” he replied. “Miss all of ya. Matt, n’Nick, n’Cookeh…” he trailed off with a shrug._

_“And Miles?” Alexa giggled._

_Alex chortled and shook his head, and then reached to tap Alexa on the nose with his pointer finger. “Miles is coming wiv, darling.” He gave her a goofy grin. “We’re makin’ a record.”_

_She shifted in his arms and nodded, and then attempted to stand a little straighter. Everyone seemed to be listing lazily to the left. Beyond the kitchen was the dull roar of party guests, the going away soiree having been Matt’s idea (any reason for a party, the drummer had surmised), and the guests of honor had consumed their share of whiskey, and their loved-ones had followed suit. Just after midnight, Miles had taken control of the record player and The White Album was currently spinning, making an already-inebriated state borderline surreal. The smell of weed was in the air, and Alex was certain he’d find traces of cocaine on the windowsill and the lid on the toilet tank come morning._

_“I know,” Alexa nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “You must be very excited to spend time with him in Paris.”_

_Alex scrunched his face at her indiscernible tone, and lifted the drink from her hand. “You’ve had a lot, Lex,” he murmured, blinking at her bleary eyes. “Yeah, m’excited. It’s one of me best mates an’ I in Paris makin’ a record.”_

_Alexa frowned as Alex set her drink aside. She wasn’t quite satisfied with Alex’s answer, but she wasn’t certain what answer she was hoping to get. Tangling her fingers with his, she pulled him close and pressed her face into his shirt, and breathed deeply. “Alex, it’s Miles,” she whispered._

_Alex stared at the top of her dark head while he felt the effects of alcohol sweeping through his veins. “Yeah,” he began slowly._

_“Darling, Miles isn’t exactly...moral.”_

_Alex barked with laughter, but he felt Alexa tense in his arms. “Lex,” he sang, standing back and lifting her chin with his fingertips. “What are you on about?”_

_She sighed, and let her head fall back with an aggravated sigh. “I don’t know, Turner.” She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. “I’m drunk,” she announced. “Let’s go back in the other room.”_

_Alex laughed into his cup, and twisted to one side to allow Alexa access to hers. Taking a sip of his whiskey and ginger, he followed her into the living room, and took in the party. Matt was in a rather animated conversation with one of Alexa’s girlfriends, waving his arms and having a laugh, and making the bird laugh in the process. Alexa spun around Alex and joined them, leaving him in her wake. The record player stood on one side of the room, and Miles had crouched down on his long, spindly legs, to rifle through Alex’s vinyl collection. On the other side of the room, Nick and Jamie sat huddled together in what appeared to be an intense conversation._

_Alex weighed his options, wondering whom he might join, when Miles made the decision for him. “Alex, where’s your press of ‘Roots & Echoes’?”_

_Alex looked right, and Miles was still crouched low next to the bottom shelf of records, slender fingers walking up the spines of the sleeves, his dark amber eyes almost impatient. Then, Alex looked left, and caught the shifting glance of Jamie, cornflower blue eyes, and ruddy cheeks, and he found he was riveted to the spot._

_“Al,” Miles prodded, standing up and striding across the room. “Come pick a record, love, I’m dyin’ over here, there’s too much to choose from!”_

_Again, Alex looked to Jamie, who had stood from the couch and hitched up his jeans, the faded denim hugging those footballer’s thighs, and Alex felt his mouth go dry. Jamie paused, too, and then ambled towards the kitchen. Seconds later, the smooth, sweet scent of Miles’ cologne surrounded Alex as the Scouser slid an arm around his shoulders. Alex stared at the empty spot where Jamie had been standing._

_“Al, c’mon, c’mere, I need your help, laa.” Miles’ tone was impatient._

_“Yeah, Miles, give us a minute.” Alex downed the rest of his drink and held up his empty glass. “I’m goin’ t’fix another drink.”_

_He felt Miles tighten the arm over his shoulders. “In a second, Al, I’ll even pour it meself.”_

_“Nah, Mi, just wait a mo, yeah? Be right back.” He tried to duck out of Miles’ one-armed embrace._

_Miles held fast, and put his mouth next to Alex’s ear. “Bit cliche, innit? Bit o’ high-school fancy, that, hashin’ it out in the kitchen where anyone can see. You gonna kiss him in there, Al? Or maybe cut your heart out an’ hand it to him? Imagine the look on Katie’s face when she sees Cookie,” and here, Alex’s mouth tasted sour at the sound of Jamie’s nickname snarled by Miles, “all bloodied up with your sentiments, and your metaphors. An’ what about Lex? She don’t deserve that, Alex, and neither do the rest of your mates.”_

_Alex felt his stomach turn at Miles’ words. The Scouser was right, though; what would he do once he was in the kitchen alone with Jamie? They weren’t in some hotel, in some city, away from everyone else. Everyone they knew was right there in that flat in Sheffield, so, no, the idea of laying his hand down was definitely unsavory. He licked dry lips, and shook his head._

_“I fink I need some air,” he murmured, as his stomach lurched again._

_“Aye, right, that,” Miles agreed, before steering Alex to the front door._

_+_

_Standing in the cold October wind, Alex tried to remember the last time he’d thrown up after a night of drinking._

_“Mickey Hughes’ party, our eleventh year.”_

_Alex hastily wiped his mouth and braced his hands on his knees, craning his neck up. “Jamie?” Had he voiced that last thought out loud? He must have; the memory of Mickey’s party came into full swing, a pattern of staggering faces and steps, and then the inside of a toilet._

_“Miles doesn’t have a stomach for vomit,” Jamie mused, nodding to the acrid pile of Alex’s last meal, and the whiskey consumed through the night. He took a cautious step forward. “You all right?”_

_“M’fine,” Alex rasped, spitting the sour taste from his mouth and running his tongue over his teeth. It was a lie, of course. Alex hadn’t felt his guts lurch dangerously until Miles was a hair’s breadth away, murmuring about Paris, and getting away from Sheffield, Alexa, the band, and inevitably Jamie: ‘Think of the lights, Al, and the people, the wet streets of autumn, and those songs we’ve already written.’ Alex’s reply had been a hasty, ‘Shut the hell up, Mi,’ and then his guts had spilled gloriously._

_“Here,” Jamie held out a glass._

_Alex made a sound of protest, but Jamie chuckled and shook his head. “It’s water, Al. I didn’t think you’d drank that much, but-”_

_“I didn’t,” Alex insisted, taking the glass from Jamie, hoping that his shaking hands would go unnoticed. He wasn’t weak from hurling his guts out, but rather, his heart. He sipped the water slowly at first, and then, when he’d rinsed his mouth and spit a few mouthfuls out, he chugged it back, and then sagged against the railing that wound the green area of the complex. Producing a cigarette from the pack in his jeans pocket, he lit it and dragged deeply, and sighed as his head began to clear._

_Jamie silently moved beside him, and leaned against the railing. “So, Paris,” Jamie began, crossing his arms over his chest and staring into the shadows of the garden._

_“Aye,” Alex nodded. He took another puff on his cigarette._

_“You know,” Jamie continued slowly, picking through his words. “I...I am happy you get to do this. I mean, I know you’ve wanted to do this record for a while, Al.”_

_Alex mumbled a sound, not really agreeing with anything, just letting Jamie know he’d heard him. He didn’t want to make small talk with Jamie. He didn’t want to talk about Paris with him, or the album, or-_

_“An’ I’m...you get to work with Miles, an’ you’ve been talkin’ about that forever it seems.”_

_Alex definitely did not want to talk about Miles with Jamie._

_“And we could use a break.”_

_The warmth that had started in Alex’s body when he’d realized Jamie was out there on the porch with him now turned to ice. “We could use a break,” Alex repeated flatly._

_“Aye, all of us. Not just...I mean...ehm…” Jamie fretted and pushed off the railing, jamming his hands into the pockets of his coat. Deftly avoiding the cooling puddle of Alex’s vomit, Jamie began to pace around the small porch. “Don’t know what I mean,” Jamie growled._

_Alex opened his mouth, but his words got caught, and then they jumbled, and he gaped at Jamie for a bit, until suddenly Jamie turned and looked in his eyes. “These last few weeks...after the tour ended...I haven’t enjoyed them quite as much as I thought I would. I… missed you, Al. More than I figured I would. An’ I don’t know what that means.” He forced half a smile, pained as it was, and continued, stepping closer to Alex. “I am happy you’re going to Paris, even though I don’t want you to go.” He frowned then, and shook his head. “I’m not making much sense, am I?” He snared Alex’s cigarette and took a few drags._

_Alex blinked at Jamie, and tried to process what the guitar player was saying. It seemed to make perfect sense to him, because Alex was feeling the same things: confusion, elation, trepidation, anxiety...and over so many things, too. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to Jamie, and watched now as Jamie blew out a stream of smoke, and then pitched the spent butt over the railing._

_“Fuck it,” he heard Jamie growl, before Jamie’s very warm hands caught his face and held him steady._

_Alex’s hand pressed into Jamie’s chest, and for a moment he held the older lad off, staring into his eyes. Jamie’s blue irises were clear; Alex knew when Jamie was drunk, and right now, he was startlingly sober. “Jameh,” Alex breathed, looking to Jamie’s mouth._

_It lasted seconds, or maybe years, Alex has never been quite sure. But he remembered the feel of Jamie’s fingers pulling through his mop of hair, and the warm smell of Jamie’s wool coat, the cigarette he’d just nicked, alcohol, and the spice of cologne. Jamie kissed him properly, and in doing so, pulled Alex completely apart._

+

Alex drew in a sharp breath as he let the memories of that night flit through his mind. Reaching for his pencil, he drew a line through the last part of the chorus and scrawled a new one, words coming faster than his hand could move, but he had to get it down. He’d clean it up later. Reaching for his guitar, he pulled it to his lap and fiddled with a few chord progressions and sounded the words out, until he had something stark, and cold and hot all at the same time - the way he’d felt when Jamie had last kissed him. It hadn’t been their last time seeing each other, either. There had still been a final farewell, a closing of the practice space for a bit, the morning after the party, when he, and Matt, and Nick, and Jamie, had all met in their space and began dismantling for their hiatus.

+

_"Been finkin' 'bout what you said last night." Alex's voice was hoarse with overuse, and too many cigarettes, but the sound still makes Jamie shiver as he remembers Alex's soft pleading as Jamie squeezed and stroked roughly, the way the younger lad had licked his lips between his incessant rambling._

_"Aye..." Jamie begins slowly, lifting his gaze to Alex’s._

_"Aye," Alex repeats stiffly. "About us needin' a break."_

_Jamie frowns and pauses his work, sitting back on his heels and watching Alex's long fingers tug leads and cords from their ports._

_"Okay," Jamie murmurs, wondering if last night - if the kisses, the touches, the way Alex had come apart so unafraid - was the product of too much too drink and an overactive imagination. Maybe it had been nothing - maybe it had been Jamie’s hopes that Alex had been affected in such a way that would somehow change the course of the doomed ship they seemed hell bent on steering, despite the storm brewing on the horizon._

_Miles’ words stuck in Alex’s throat, but he managed to spit them out. “It’s better this way, yeah? For the band.” God, that were a knockoff excuse if he’d ever heard one. This wasn’t the time to really being doing this, but then again, when would be the time? He was leaving for Paris the next morning._

_Jamie blinked at Alex, trying to process what he was saying. “The...the **band** , Alex?” Jamie sputtered, raking his hands over his hair. He glanced about the room, hoping that his small outburst hadn’t been overheard by Nick or Matt. It hadn’t; the other two band members were busy chatting and cracking wise, and hadn’t the faintest idea as to what Alex and Jamie were discussing._

_For all the churning emotion, Alex played it cool, and affected a casual shrug, while his mouth remained neutral. “Yeah. I mean, can you imagine it? Us breakin’ up because...well, because we broke up?” Alex chuckled coldly, and shook his head, and tried to forget the taste of Jamie’s lips from the night before._

_Jamie was stunned into silence for a moment, but Alex saw the realization dawn on those Anglo-Saxon features soon enough. “An Katie, an Lex…” Jamie added softly. “Yeah,” he finally nodded. “You’re right. I don’t like it but...yeah. I know what you’re saying.”_

_“I joost fink that maybe...maybe the time away will put fings in perspective, yeah?” Alex prodded, slipping into a relaxed drawl, watching as Matt took down his kit in the practice room so he could move it back to his flat during the break._

_“S’pose,” Jamie shrugged, seemingly unconvinced of Alex’s reasoning. “But what if it don’t work?” He was fairly certain that turning off his feelings for Alex wasn’t like turning off a light switch. He’d wager Alex felt the same about him._

_It wasn’t something Alex had considered, and the words he’d prepared to speak fizzled. He didn’t like second guessing himself, especially when it came to his emotions. Those were in enough turmoil without Jamie bringing up the obvious._

_Jamie slowly began disassembling his pedalboard, and writing labels with a Sharpie, while he continued talking. “I mean...yeah, you can spend all the time you like with the Scouser, an’ Lex, and I can play house wiv Katie, but Al...we’re gonna make another album, you know that. An’ what then?” He paused his scribbling and flexed his fingers. Won’t we feel the same way we do? He let the unasked question hang between them._

_“We deal wiv it then,” Alex said shortly, packing away any further discussion at the moment. He swung his gaze to Jamie._

_The guitarist looked startled, but merely pressed his lips together in a grim line and nodded. “Okay.”_

_But Alex knew it wasn’t that easy. Things were never that easy._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Ahhh, Paris. Here's some smut for Easter. Have a great weekend!

Miles was kissing him.

Alex tried to wrap his head around the thought, but it swept down into his belly, with heat, and arousal, as Miles pinned him against the metal door of the back exit to the studio. He wasn’t going to fucking kid himself, Miles was fit: long, lanky, and tight. And he was a flirt, a randy little tart, and Alex found he liked the younger man’s exuberance, completely evident in the way Miles’ fingers threaded through Alex’s thick hair, and then fell to his hips, pulling him in.

“Miles,” Alex uttered softly after breaking the kiss to catch his breath.

Miles inhaled deeply and hummed, and rolled his head into Alex’s fingers as they tugged at his hair. “Breathe,” Miles chuckled. “God, you get me fired up, Al.” Taking another breath, he caught Alex’s hand in his and stepped back, looking the older boy up and down. 

“Yeah,” Alex replied, rather ineloquently. He blushed and twisted his fingers around Miles’ for a moment before glancing about the alley. “Not exactly the best place to be doin’ this.”

“What did you have in mind, Turner?”

Alex grinned, shrugging, and looked at his feet. Dropping Miles’ hand, he fished a cigarette out and lit it, flicking ashes and leaning back against the wall, eyeing Miles. “Have to finish that track,” Alex reminded him.

“An’ after?”

Another shrug from Alex.

“Dinner,” Miles decided. “We’ll find a curry place, get some take-away, head back to the hotel.”

Alex shivered, wondering how Miles always managed to make the most innocent of ideas sound so...tempting. He licked his lips and nodded eagerly. “Good enough, then.”

“Good enough?” Miles barked, his laughter bubbling out.

Alex smiled, completely focused on Miles. “Yeah, I suppose. Not really in the mood for curry, as it were.”

Pulling his bottom lip up between his teeth, Miles pushed off the wall he was leaning against and closed the distance between him and Alex once more. “What _are_ you in the mood for?”

Alex laughed through his nose, and pitched the half-smoked cigarette aside. “Summat from ‘ome.” He glanced at the door again, and then tucked his first two fingers into the front of Miles’s pants, and pulled him a little closer. He looked up into Miles’s warm eyes, and saw all the possibilities there.

“You’re a flirt, Turner,” Miles grinned, ducking his head to take another taste of Alex’s lips.

Alex nodded even as Miles’ tongue slipped against his. “Takes two,” he muttered, gently pushing Miles away. “We got work to do,” he continued, turning to the door.

Miles grinned at Alex’s back, the older lad’s work ethic such a surprising turn-on. He followed him inside. “Aye, we do.”

+

“I’m sorry Alex, but it needs to be retiled.”

“Shit,” Alex utters. “The whole fing?”

“Entirely,” Alex’s dad confirms.

What a nightmare. In Paris for a month, and his dad has rung him to tell him that a water pipe had busted behind the wall of the flat, destroying the drywall and tub surround in one go. “It’s not so bad, Alex, just get Jamie to do it.”

“Jamie - what?” His heart skitters sharply, causing a pang in his chest that he hasn’t felt since- 

Since he'd come to Paris.

His dad is talking again. “Doesn’t he do tile? I mean, that’s what he went to college for. Give him a ring, ask him to take a look. You might have to help him with the heavy liftin’, but you’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?”

Alex swallows thickly, and closes his eyes against the swimming sensation in his head.

“Alex? Alex, are you there?”

Realizing he’s holding his breath as he’s submerged in memories, Alex lets out a quick huff and replies to his father, “Yes, Dad, I’m here. Sorry. Been tired lately, what wiv all the recordin’.”

“Hm, I’ll bet,” his father agrees. “How’s that, then? Still going smoothly? Your mother is absolutely thrilled about this project - I am, too. Are you gettin’ on wiv Miles all right?”

Alex flicks his gaze from the newspaper on the table in the kitchenette of his hotel suite to the king-sized bed still occupied by the Liverpudlian. ‘Getting on alright’, as his father had put it, is saying it modestly. For the last three weeks, it’s been nothing but cigarettes, handjobs, whiskey, blow jobs, cocaine, and, four days ago, Alex had finally had a taste of getting fucked. He shivers at the memory, and the tremor that goes through him is half cocked with anxiety.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, Dad, we’re gettin’ on great, always have, you know that.”

“Two peas,” his dad laughs. “Does it look like you’ll be home when you thought?”

Alex nods, and then realizes his father can’t hear his head nod. “Hm. Yeah, it’s looking to be on schedule.” He rubs his eyes as he watches Miles stir, and then stretch, rolling onto his back and arching away from the mattress as the sheet slides down.

“Look, Da, I gotta go-”

“Lex is good,” his father interjects hurriedly. “She and your mother went for lunch last week. She really misses you, though I’m sure she’s told you that.”

He clears his throat as he hears Miles groan, and he quickly turns away as the sheet slips further down Miles’ body, towards his hipbones. “Yes. Talked to her the other day, actually. Can’t wait to see her.” It sounds half-hearted, and Alex can’t be bothered to elaborate, and make it seem otherwise.

His dad makes a noise of neutrality on the other end of the line, and then coughs. “Well, I’d better let you go, yeah? Don’t want to make you late to the studio; we know how punctual you are.” His dad laughs at his own joke.

“Thanks, Dad,” Alex sighs, trying to ignore the sound of Miles’ humming as he rummages around the bedside for his cigarettes. “Say hi to Mum for me, yeah?”

“Call Jamie,” his father reminds him before hanging up.

A lighter snaps shut, and he hears a quick inhale: Miles lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. Alex casts a hasty glance over his shoulder, and is caught by the way Miles is looking at him, perched on the edge of the bed with the corner of the sheet slung over his lap in a ridiculous attempt to look modest after last night’s display. He’d fucked Alex raw, a fact that makes Alex’s cheeks heat before he looks back to the phone in his hand.

“Everythin’ all right? Heard you cursin’, an’ to your dad, no less.” Miles chuckles, his crooked smile firmly in place, cognac colored eyes sweeping down over Alex’s frame. “Though wiv the way you were cursing me out last night, it’s not surprising.”

Alex lets out a soft breath, watching as Miles stands from the bed and crosses the room. He drops cool fingertips on Alex’s bare shoulder, and they walk up the nape of his neck and sink into Alex’s hair, tugging until Alex’s head drops back, his mouth open, eyes squeezing shut.

“Miles,” he growls.

The Scouser leans down, lips hovering at Alex’s ear. “Went a bit mad for it, didn’t you, Turner? Gettin’ fucked like tha’.”

_Went a bit mad for it, dint ya?_ The words he’d once uttered to Jamie in a crowded restaurant in Frankfurt over taters and eggs come back to haunt him, but Miles’ touch overrides the echo, slender-fingered hands tugging hair and sliding down over his bare chest.

Miles’ mouth is rough against Alex’s, teeth snaring the soft bottom lip and holding it as those clever fingertips dance, tugging at Alex’s nipples and tracing between his pecs, down to his navel. His hips automatically jump up, and Alex feels a bit foolish for his desperate display, and the little breaths he’s huffing as Miles’ lips move lower, down his chin, around his neck. Alex busies himself reaching back and clutching Miles’ neck, his hair, anything to hold the lad against him.

In the next moment Miles moves Alex, who is licking his lips as the head of his erection bumps the table’s edge. His chest meets the cool surface, nipples pulling up tight and dragging over the glass as Miles slides a hand to the back of Alex’s neck, holding him in place.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alex,” Miles grunts in awe, watching as Alex parts his feet and squares his stance.

Alex’s eyes squeeze shut, and he’s very aware his mouth is hanging open rather whorishly as he fogs the glass, and he’s drooling as he waits for Miles’ next move.

“Oh, you want it, don’t you, laa?” Miles’ tone is thick, and rasping, and it makes Alex curl his toes. He can hear Miles’ smirk when he asks, “Want to get fooked? Hm?”

The fingers on his neck tighten, and Alex chokes on a moan. He nods silently, pressing back against Miles’ heat.

“Precious lit’l lamb," Miles teases, his hands molding to the curve of Alex’s ass through the cotton of his boxers.

“Miles,” Alex warns thinly, his fingers curling and finding no purchase on the glass table.

Miles shushes him, and moves away for a moment, taking his warmth, and the thrill of his body against Alex’s, with him. It makes Alex throb, makes his dick ache, and he moves so he can slip a hand into his boxers, and stroke himself to full mast while he waits.

When Miles is back, he takes over for Alex, tugging the boxers down, covering Alex’s hand with his own. Alex closes his eyes and pants, licking his lips at the feel of callused fingers (guitarist’s fingers) tugging and fisting him, the thumb quickly rolling around the head, spreading around the clear fluid that beads there, working into the groove and notch until Alex’s tongue is caught between his teeth and he’s pushing back into Miles’ pelvis.

Miles is hot, and hard, the tip of him pressing into the back of Alex’s thigh, and then dragging up, leaving a trail of precome across one ass cheek. His thumbs part Alex, and he holds him open. Alex stills, his thighs tense, his cock squeezed in his fist. There’s a wet sound, followed by a hiss, and the press of Miles’ thumb right against Alex’s hole. Alex groans and blushes hotly when he realizes that Miles has spit on him as a precursor to his activities.

Alex takes the thumb. He loosens his jaw - a trick he discovered earlier in his singing career was that if he opened his throat and let his jaw go slack, his body would follow, and the sounds he’d make would be ten times as powerful. Now is no exception, and he lets loose a long, low note, followed by harsh panting, and the sharp gasp of Miles’ name.

“I’ll go easy on you, laa,” Miles whispers, laying over Alex’s back and putting his lips next to the older lad’s ear. His fingers flex on Alex’s hip where he holds him, and he gently eases his thumb out, and then adds lube, slicking Alex all over.

Alex shakes his head. He doesn’t want gentle, not from Miles, not now, not with his thoughts chopped up and smashed back together haphazardly, images of Jamie’s lips, and Jamie’s hands, and Jamie’s cock in the forefront of his mind, but Miles’ voice, and body (and cock) in the here and now.

“Fuckin’ do it, Mi,” Alex pleads, his legs beginning to shake, and his voice following suit. “Want it...want it hard.” _Want ya to fook Jameh out me head._

_I should know better by now_ , he thinks as Miles puts himself inside of Alex and slides his hand up his spine to hold the back of his neck once more, _that all the fucking in the world won’t move Jamie out me heart._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Just a bit of filler, a bit of insight as to what Jamie has been going through while Alex is in Paris. Thanks to everyone who has stopped by, left kudos, or comments.

It’s rather strange, standing in Alex’s bathroom, when Alex is nowhere to be seen.

Jamie frowns and taps the tile of the tub surround. “Soaked the drywall,” he mutters to himself, trying to keep to the task at hand, but failing miserably as everything surrounding him is Alex. The house still smells like the dark-eyed lad, still holds his ghost and his mysteries, magnetic poetry half spilling guts and truth, while a stack of scribbled up note paper left on the kitchen counter tells Jamie that Alex’s mind is anything but restful at any given moment.

+

_Three days ago he’d been running, sneakers laced tight and connecting with damp pavement as he breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. Running had always calmed Jamie when his thoughts were scattered and all he wanted to do was scrap. He felt anxious, and rightfully so. Katie had been attached to his hip for the last few months, he hadn’t picked up his guitar in weeks, and he was a wreck on the field, and all of it set him on edge. The only time he did feel some sense of calm was when he entertained thoughts of Alex. But that calmness always came with a side of hesitation, and it mucked up his sense of black and white, which landed him right back in the stew._

_The Strokes kept his pace steady as he navigated the familiar route, and he felt light, and fast, and that was when the music faded out in favor of a ringtone. Headphones still in, he took the call, not even glancing at the caller ID, and nearly stumbled into a hedge when the voice on the other end greeted him._

_“Ehhh...Jameh...hey. It’s Al.”_

_Well, no fucking shit ‘it’s Al.’ Alex was the only one who sounded mostly asleep or drunk when he talked, and Jamie’s heart had leapt into his throat. He hadn’t heard anything from Alex for a month, aside from the updates that Matt always had about the progress of the Shadow Puppets, and life in Paris._

_“He sounds a little...different,” was all Matt could really say with a shrug, before picking up his pint and downing it._

_“Al,” Jamie rasped, bending over and bracing his hands on his thighs. He took a moment to still his beating heart, more a result of Alex’s voice than the running. “Hey.” He gulped and took another breath. “How’s it, then?”_

_“Yeah, all right. Are...are you okay?”_

_“M’joost runnin’,” Jamie explained, standing straight and walking a bit. “How’s Paris?”_

_Alex didn’t answer right away, and Jamie bit his tongue. Alex knew why Jamie ran, and Jamie wondered if he’d ask after that._

_“Paris is...good,” Alex finally replied. “M’comin’ ‘ome week after next. The seventeenth.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what Matt said.”_

_“Hm. How’s it wiv you?”_

_Ah, there it was - there was that ounce of prodding concern regarding Jamie’s need to run. “S’all right,” he shrugged, feeling the lie sticking in his throat. He wasn’t alright, at least not one hundred percent. That last day in the loft as they’d packed things away had been awkward, to say the least, and now with Alex calling, Jamie wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or on guard._

_“Listen, mate,” Alex sighed, “I feel kinda...dunno. Hm. Off? I don’t feel quite right askin’, but...it’s me bathroom.”_

_“Eh?” Jamie frowned and moved off the sidewalk, leaning against a building and watching the traffic roll by._

_“Dad called on Friday. Seems pipes in the building burst an’...there’s flooding. Anyway...he thinks it’s all going to need to be replaced, flooring, drywall, tile...I was wondering…” Alex trailed off._

_“Want me to take a look?” The question was out of Jamie’s mouth before he could think of something else to say, and he was grateful because he’d now have something to occupy his time._

_“Do you mind? Lex has a key, she can let you in.”_

_Even as Alex expressed his relief, Jamie frowned. He really shouldn’t have agreed so quickly. The idea of being alone in Alex’s apartment after the party, after that kiss, after everything that had ever happened between them, didn’t exactly excite Jamie in the best way. Hadn’t Alex still run off to Paris? And with fucking Miles, no less. He wasn’t sure what Alex’s game was; the mention of Lex letting him into the apartment caught Jamie off guard. Surely she’d be able to see right through him._

_Still, Jamie’s answer came before he had time to reconsider. “Nah, mate, I don’t mind.”_

_They let the pause that came next expand, and Jamie counted his heartbeats until he reached ten. “Be good to ‘ave you back. Gettin’ restless here, not...not playin’, an’ the like.”_

_“Yeah,” Alex sighed. “Yeah, I can’t wait to be back.” He sounded genuinely happy._

_“I’ll see what needs to be done an’ take it from there.”_

_“Don’t go choosin’ tiles wiv’out me, mate,” Alex quickly added. “Probably end up wiv pink, or summat joost as terrible.”_

_Jamie snorted. “If it’s as bad as your Da says, there’ll be a lot of work before we get to that point. But I’ll let you know. I can call you?”_

_“You can always call me.”_

_There was another pause, and Jamie felt a little lighter than he did when he answered the phone. “Same goes for you.”_

_“Thanks,” Alex rasped. “Listen, ‘v gotta go. Cheers, mate.”_

_The line went dead._

+

A creak in the hardwood floor of the living room brings Jamie back to the present, standing in Alex’s bathroom. Seconds later, Alexa appears, poking her head in. “Is it bad?”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and nods. “Have to redo everythin’. Floors are fine, but the drywall, tile...I mean, I can get started pulling the old stuff down, get Matt an’ Nick in here to help. Alex doesn’t want us makin’ any decoratin’ decisions without him, though.”

Alexa smiles tightly and nods. “Okay.” She turns and heads back down the hall towards the front entrance.

Jamie follows, frowning at Alexa’s obvious distraction. She’d made herself scarce during his whole inspection, and had been silent during their walk up to Alex’s flat. There was something thick and and heavy on the air between them, and Jamie’s head throbbed painfully with the notion that he was responsible for Alexa’s agitation.

Suddenly, she whirled around to face Jamie, and she fixed him with her solemn gaze. “Have you...have you talked to Alex while he's been in Paris?”

“Nah,” Jamie shrugs awkwardly, “he just rung me up Sunday. I fink Matt’s talked to him a few times. Is everythin’ okay?”

Alexa shakes her head, and flutters her hand. “It’s nothing,” she replies. “I suppose I should give you this,” and she holds up her key to Alex’s apartment.

“Don’t you...need one, too?”

“Hm. No,” Alexa says with another shake of her head as she presses the key into Jamie’s hand. “I'd rather not get involved with this mess.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine. You know that tag up there that says 'drug use'? This is why. I figured if they're in Paris, they may as well go all the way. I've never done coke, but I've been around those who have, and I suspect this is what thought process may be like. The term 'luff' is simply the lazy drawl of a Sheffield accent on the pet form 'love'.

“Ford has a bunch of gigs lined up for us already,” Miles hums from beside Alex. 

It’s their second last evening in Paris, reason enough to drink champagne and do a few lines off the glass table. They’d opted to stay in, partly because Alex was already on that plane back to England, thinking about the Packhorse, about the boys, about the notebook he’d filled up three-quarters with lyrics and scribblings that he couldn’t wait to put to music, about Lex, about Miles, and, of course, about Jamie.

_Love quadrilaterals_ , Alex muses as Miles stirs beside him, _are indeed something of a novelty_.

When his thoughts turn to Jamie, it makes Alex’s shoulders bunch, makes him cut another line of coke to numb his brain and shoot his thoughts to the moon. He’s not sure if he likes the way the drug makes him feel, but it does make him forget about Jamie for a bit, and become hyper focused on other things.

One of those things is currently digging his sharp elbow in Alex’s ribs. “Eh, Al, did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Alex rasps, sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. He rests his elbows on his knees and scrubs his hand over his face, before picking up his watch - last year’s Christmas present from Lex - and frowning at the early hour. “Should go out.”

Miles frowns at Alex’s sudden suggestion. “I thought you were happy to stay in?”

Alex shrugs, setting the watch down, and fumbles for his cigarettes. Finding only one left, he makes a face, and squints across to the kitchen table, seeing the empty champagne bottle. “Gotta get smokes,” he mumbles, lighting that last cigarette before fishing his boxers from the floor and slipping them on. “An’ I want some whiskey.”

“I’ll come with,” Miles announces, groaning as his overworked muscles bunch when he moves.

“S’alright,” Alex waves him off, shaking his head. He’s already got his jeans on and is pulling a t shirt over his head as he approaches the kitchen table. The little glass vial that Miles had procured earlier in the evening is there, contents evident, and Alex deftly snags it off the table and pockets it while Miles is still insisting that he comes with.

“Alex, you get lost in the hotel lobby!” Miles laughs, reaching for his pants.

“I’ll be fine,” he sniffs, shrugging into his coat and gesturing to Miles’ state of undress. “Store’s just a few blocks over, yeah? Stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”

Miles pauses, his wide smile faltering. “All...alright.” He tilts his head and watches as Alex fiddles with the zipper on his coat. “You okay, laa?”

“M’fine,” Alex nods, looking up at Miles, and then looking away. “I’m joost...dunno. Contemplative, I suppose. Want a moment to meself, now that we’re at the end of it.”

Miles pulls a confused face. “The end of it?”

“Here in Paris, yeah? I mean...after tomorrow, that’s it. We’re done. We go back to England an…” Alex trails off with a shrug.

“An’ that’s it, then,” Miles scoffs, turning suddenly and starting to search for his clothes.

Alex blinks at the younger lad’s outburst and groans inwardly. “No, Mi, that’s not...not what I meant - ”

“But it _is_ , Alex, innit?” Miles sighs, turning with his arms laden with jeans and his shirt. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and worries his bottom lip. “This _is_ it for us. For us _here_ , yeah? In Paris.” He snorts and looks out the window. “We’ll always fucking have Paris, won’t we?”

Alex tenses in the silence that crawls between them, and ruffles the hair on the back of his head. “There’s the tour,” he mumbles.

“Just fucking go, Alex.” Miles drops to the edge of the mattress and unfurls his jeans, jamming his legs into them. He stands quickly and hikes the denim up, and fastens them quickly. “I’ll be gone when you get back.”

“Miles,” Alex says sharply, causing the younger lad to look up with a face flaming in embarrassment. “Don’t do this. Don’t act like you didn’t know this would end. It has to end. For fuck’s sake, Mi, I have a _girlfriend_!”

Here, Miles pauses, and levels Alex with a gaze of disbelief, and contempt. “Right,” he growls. “Your _girl_ friend. How convenient.” But he pauses while he’s shoving his arms into his sleeves and looks Alex over, seeing the confusion in dark, shining eyes.

“I can’t…” Alex trails off and pushes his hands into his pockets. “I can’t be what you want me to be. What you want us to be. You get that?”

Miles groans and sags back onto the bed, flopping to the mattress. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Alex.”

“But you are asking me to fuck you. Exclusively?”

Miles blinks, more taken aback by that statement than anything else Alex has said. He figured the Yorkshire lad wouldn’t be so...clinical. There was more to them than just sex; Miles was certain. Deflated, he puts a hand over his eyes and with the other waves to the door. “You should go get cigarettes before the store closes.”

Alex hesitates.

“I’ll be here,” Miles reassures him, dropping both hands to his lap. “An’ when you get back...whenever you get back, we’ll talk, and we’ll figure this out.”

+

He has a bump three blocks from the store, fresh cigarettes in pocket, and a handle of whiskey in a paper bag. He’s just waiting for the swift rush in his veins, the thump of his heart to reach almost bursting capacity, and for the lights to start shining so much that he has to laugh, and keep his eyes closed.

“Do I know you?”

He opens his eyes and swears he can _feel_ his pupils dilate, and then focus on the slender girl in front of him, her own green eyes glassy.

“No.” He finds himself leaning in, and he can smell the sweet air around her, and becomes mesmerized by her blonde hair. He doesn’t really go for blondes, but then again, he didn’t think he really went for blokes, either.

“Are...are you alright?”

Alex giggles and flings his arms out, and does a little twirl on the sidewalk. “Sound as a pound, luff.” He stops turning and opens his eyes wide. “Lemme ask you summat.”

She blinks and nods solemnly, as if she’s indulging him.

Alex doesn’t care, not with the way his nerves are alight. “You got a man? Got a boyfriend?”

She nods again, and he can see that she’s wondering where this is going.

“If you found out your boyfriend was gettin’ shagged by one of his best mates - another bloke - what would you do?”

“I...I…” she’s flustered and she glances about the street, wondering if… “You’re...this is a joke?”

Alex bursts out laughing, can’t contain it, really, and howls up into the night air so that his sides hurt. “I wish, luff,” he wheezes, stifling another round of giggles. “I wish it were a joke. Or a bad dream.” He sobers and blinks, as if suddenly waking from a dream. “Ehm...I’m sorry,” he mutters, taking a step back and hunching his shoulders to bring the collar of his jacket up to his chin. “I’m sorry.” He scowls and turns on his heel, and scatters away into the night.

+

The thump of music matches his heart, and though he's not much of a dancer, he's drawn to the queue and the smiling girls, the cocky French, the cigarettes, and the flashing lights. Something deep inside of him murmurs that this is a place Lex would like, but he brushes it off when the velvet rope is held open for him. If he's recognizable, they don't show it any other way than with his quick access to the club. Soon, there's gin in his hand and metal on his tongue as he lets himself get carried away towards going too far. He never goes too far, except for when he does, and he makes a bloody great mess of things. Throwing the gin back, he drops the glass on a stranger's table, and elbows into the crowd, deciding that he'd like to get lost, despite the anxiety of his rational side trying to surface. He has another bump instead, next to the DJ booth, and he thinks he may have overdone it, but can't really be arsed as he just starts to dance, and move, and sweat, hugging people he's never met, high fiving the faceless, and letting something else have control of him for once. The lights are bright, flashing, hands waving, people roaring, and he thinks that this is a good place to start tearing his little world apart.

Maybe it's hours that he's in that place, or maybe it's only a handful of drinks, but soon he's outside, the drone and din of bass thumping along with his staccato heartbeat. The air is startlingly cool, and exceptionally clean after the cloying closeness of wet walls and sweat-sweetened skin, and the scuff of his soles on the asphalt buffs away the pounding in his ears.

He wanders, feet and thoughts, and traffic and people flash by, faster than they are probably going, but the cocaine is still in his blood and he feels like he’s trembling everywhere. It makes him press back against the brick of a building and take a breath, and another, and standing there like that in a damp night against a brick wall, he’s taken back to London, to the Met Bar, and to Jamie’s kiss.

“Al?”

Alex blinks and finds his phone in hand, raised to his ear, and Jamie’s voice calling to him from the other end.

“Jameh,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and wishing himself beside the fairer lad.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? It’s almost midnight. Jesus, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” There’s a hint of dissonance in Jamie’s voice. 

In fact, Jamie sounds rather adorably perturbed, and Alex laughs at Jamie’s concern. “I’m fookin’ fine, Jameh,” he breathes. “Did a bump, now I’m diggin’ in the whiskey, an’ it’s nighttime here, an’ I couldn’t stay in tha’ room a moment longer.”

“Al,” Jamie says flatly, then pauses. Then: “You’re high?”

“An’ properly,” Alex snaps, before licking his teeth and looking about, bright lights flashing on the wet night. “I wanna see you, Jameh.”

“You will,” Jamie assures him, rather hurriedly. “Day after tomorrow, we’re meeting at the Packhorse.”

“No,” Alex replies, pushing away from the wall and beginning to pace. “I wanna see you at my place. An’ at the Ocha, an’ the Vagrant, an...an on your knees, Jamie, god, I wanna see you on your knees. I wanna see you,” he repeats, and soon he’s repeating it, his voice louder, words coming faster, until it’s a rant, and Jamie is calling to him from the other end.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jameh, Jameh, Jameh! Fook!” Alex snaps off and laughs, and laughs, and it’s so absurd that he thinks he’ll collapse right there on the damps streets of Paris. “Fook, Jameh, I’m comin’ home, yeah? An’ I want you.” He turns to the wall and presses his forehead against the brick, and then slams the edge of his fist into it. “I want you, Jamie, so help me.” He hits the wall again, and keens, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain in his hand, and the burn in his heart. His heart is threading tightly in his chest and he feels like he might be on fire. His thumb slips over the ‘end call’ button and he runs.

He runs straight back to the suite, and it’s a miracle he’s found his way back after all the wandering he’s done, but he barrels in, surprising Miles, and he kicks the door shut.

Crosses the room in three steps, and shuts himself in the bathroom.

Flips the shower on, strips his clothes off, drains the whiskey, and steps into the hot, stinging needles of water. 

Soon, the water is thundering down around him.

Or is that Miles pounding on the door, shouting his name with arrogance, and concern?

It doesn’t matter. Alex drowns it all out, pushes his face into the spray of the water, and lets his hand drift down his belly, between his thighs, where he’s more than a little surprised to find how rapidly he’s hardened. He squeezes roughly, trying to recall the feel of Jamie’s strong hand, the way Jamie’s skin reddens on his chest and thighs when he’s aroused, the way Jamie’s eyes hold him steady, and won’t let him stray. Alex twists his wrist and sobs at the almost electric feel that threatens to spin up his spine. It’s not quite enough.

None of it is, really. “Want you,” Alex mutters to the image in his mind, eyes firmly held shut, and his heart clinging to the call of Jamie’s voice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Aaaaaaaaaannnnggggssssssssssst.
> 
> You've been warned. Thanks for sticking it out, you guys, I know this is rather tame to what I've put out in the past, but there has to be a basis for amazing, mind-blowing sex. And that's coming up in the next chapter. I'm updating early as I may be Mac-less for the better part of next week AND because I'm off to Comic Con here in my city with a very good friend whom I've never met before. Should be interesting.

_Fuck, Alex,_ Jamie thinks as he grips the edge of damp, softened drywall and tears it away. _Fuck. Alex._ He flings the debris aside and takes hold once more, pulling, prying, gutting the damage and making a pile in the gallon pail next to him. Despite the chill that accompanies December in England, Jamie is sweating, salt soaking his hair and stinging his tired eyes. 

He and Nick and Matt had worked hard over the last week, pulling tile and drywall, but there was still a bit left to do before the new drywall came in that afternoon. Jamie had planned to come by after breakfast that morning, but after Alex’s manic phone call at midnight, and Jamie’s subsequent, frantic redialing of Alex’s number to no avail, he hadn’t been able to sleep. There’d been a six of Boddington’s in the fridge, and he’d tucked that under his arm, pocketed the ring that housed the key to Alex’s flat, and hopped in his car.

It’s two am. He’s been here for an hour already, and done most of the work, but there is still bitter to drink, and room for thought, and so Jamie cracks the top on another can and wanders out of the bathroom, down the hall, to stand in the doorway of Alex’s bedroom.

The room itself is fairly non-descript; Alex isn’t one for sentiments of the commercial kind, so the bedspread is black, generic, but Jamie knows the sheets are a high-thread count, slippery and silvery-blue, and that there’s a stack of weathered books of poetry and classic prose on Alex’s side.

_Alex’s side_. Jamie snorts at that - the whole thing is Alex’s bed, but when he’d spent the night, that handful of times after Frankfurt, Alex had made room for Jamie on the side closest to the door, as if Jamie might keep whatever forced Alex out of bed at three am at bay. After that first night, however, Jamie was convinced that it didn’t matter where Alex slept, the boy was prone to predawn prowlings, cutting words on the page after chilly walks to clear his head and smoke, and exist. Jamie takes a long swig of ale and, despite his better judgement, toes off his boots and peels off his work gloves, and then pads over the hardwood and into Alex’s room.

Jamie’s aware of the slightly mournful vibe he’s laying down as he circles Alex’s bed to stand at his desk, fingers grazing the curling covers of notebooks that Jamie would never dream of going through, despite his desperate need to have some insight into the corners of Alex’s mind. He can’t imagine what he would do if the situation were reversed, if someone as lyrical as Alex picked up one of Jamie’s notebooks and opened it and gawked at his awkward ramblings and his half-baked attempts to come close to what Alex could do. 

Jamie’s cheeks heat with false embarrassment; he hopes his awful attempts to write never come to light, though he personally feels it’s been coming easier to him as of late. He hasn’t thought of Alex since he’d left for Paris - at least, he tries not to, not consciously, anyway - and then one phone call a week ago and the floodgates had opened, and everything Jamie had tried to push aside had come crashing back, and now Jamie catches himself penning in secret whenever he’s got a moment, stuffing the book down between the couch cushions when Katie comes by. 

Being in this place doesn’t help with Jamie’s apparent anxiety, but what is he supposed to say to Alex? _Sorry, I can’t help you out, mate, but every time I’m in your flat I think of you, an’ all the things we’ve done_. But after Alex’s ramblings a few hours earlier, Jamie wonders if perhaps a confession of his own would help ease the oddity of tension that is growing between them, despite being five hundred kilometers away from one another.

And Alex is back tomorrow.

The thought is a little sobering, despite the near-empty can held loosely in Jamie’s fingers, and when Jamie is one step away from pulling open Alex’s drawers to find that old, red Lacoste shirt, he stops himself, berates himself, calls himself a fucking wanker, and stalks out of the bedroom, back to the bathroom, where he proceeds to tear down the rest of the drywall, and hump loads of the soggy stuff out the back door to the bin.

It’s still blissfully dark out, and the chill of early morning clears Jamie’s thoughts. Matt and Nick aren’t coming by today, and the drywallers aren’t due until eleven. He doesn’t want to go back home. He’s not done here yet. Hauling the empty bucket back into the flat, Jamie strips out of his grubby jeans and t shirt, and gives himself a wipe down in the kitchen before falling bonelessly onto Alex’s bed, pulling the sheets around him, and laying a hand on the empty space beside him.

+

Katie takes up the space beside him the next night at the Packhorse. Jamie’s hands are sweaty, and he rubs them along his thighs, scratching at the denim of his jeans, before he takes another gulp of ale and laughs half-heartedly at something Matt says. He glances at the door, and then his watch, hoping that he looks casual enough because he’s certain he’s checked the time, and the door, at least a dozen times in as many minutes. If his vigilance is noticed, no one says anything. Nick barrells headlong into a tale from their last tour, one that Jamie hopes he’ll keep rated PG. He’s so caught up in the string of events from Nick’s perspective that he doesn’t notice when Alex finally arrives.

And he doesn’t even see Alex at first - it’s Lex that approaches the table, and Matt smiles and throws an arm around her shoulders as he half rises from the booth. Katie beams and leans across to kiss her cheeks, and that’s when Jamie’s head swivels back towards the bar - 

And there he is.

Standing next to Miles.

There’s shadows under his dark eyes, and his hair is a bit longer, curling about his ears, and his face is a bit more...worldly, Jamie surmises, for lack of a better term. He doesn’t have that fresh-faced anxiety anymore, but a rather dreamy expression that Jamie associates with Paris, and experiencing all the city had to offer.

When Jamie spies the brush of Miles’ fingers against Alex’s, he wonders just exactly what those offers had entailed. He quickly looks to Lex who’s perched next to Nick as Katie goes on about something about Milan, but she’s focused on Miles. Her face is tight. Her posture is rigid. Jamie looks back to the pair at the bar in time for Alex to cast his glance to their table. He falters, and pulls his hand from Miles’ searching fingers, and then smiles widely.

Matt cheers, hopping from his seat to catch the smaller lad around the middle and hoist him up in a strong embrace. Nick follows, and Jamie’s feet make their move because it would look rather silly if he didn’t join the rest of the band in welcoming Alex back. As Matt and Nick clamour and dance around with various words of greeting, Alex stares long and hard at Jamie, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

“Jameh,” Alex breathes lowly, before curling an arm around Jamie’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. Long fingers card through the thick hair at the back of Jamie’s neck, pressing him closer.

Jamie hears himself sigh against Alex’s neck, and he tightens his hold around Alex’s ribs, but the embrace is short lived, and the warm scent that is Alex is fleeting, as Miles approaches and claps Matt on the back, and reels Alex back in from Jamie’s grasp with an arm about his neck. “You boys missed him, eh?”

Matt chuckles, and Nick says, “Of course, you lowly Scouser,” but Miles is looking directly at Jamie, and the smile the lowly Scouser is wearing makes Jamie feel a little sick to his stomach.

“Can we get another round?” Matt calls out towards the bar, waving his hand in a circle to indicate topping up the table. He takes up the other side of Alex and he and Miles usher the wayward Monkey to the table. Jamie follows, sitting back down next to Katie, across from Alex, who is sandwiched neatly between Lex and Miles. Lex looks like Jamie feels, and Miles seems way too comfortable with where he’s seated. Alex appears none the wiser, aloof as usual, but he manages a glance or two in Jamie’s direction, peeking up from under his long lashes as he worries his bottom lip.

Beside Alex, Lex shifts, and Jamie’s glance turns to her, and he’s suddenly caught in her tiger’s stare. Her eyes flick to Alex, and then back to Jamie’s, and suddenly, her smile is back, no longer tight, but sad, and she picks up the glass that was set in front of her and takes a long, slow sip. Jamie’s eyes cut to Katie next, suddenly worried that if Lex has noticed, then surely the petite blonde has as well, but when he looks, she’s busy laughing at something Miles is saying.

_Christ, he’s got everybody wrapped around his crooked little finger_ , Jamie thinks, but he’s not fooling Lex. _Neither are you_ , his next thought comes. He pushes it aside, and resists the urge to wince at Miles’ chattering laugh.

_He’s not fooling me._

+

“Don’t really look like the damage were that bad,” Alex slurs, narrowing that dark gaze and leaning in to inspect the new drywall. He blinks a few times, long lashes sweeping his cheekbones, and then he turns to Jamie.

Jamie, for his part, is halfway pissed. The night has gotten away from him, from all of them, really. Whether or not he noticed something was up, Nick had made sure that the bottom of Jamie’s glass was merely a glimpse, and ordered round upon round. Jamie was grateful for the distraction - he was starting to think of how his fist would look planted in Miles’ teeth, and the thought disturbed him. Sure, Jamie was a scrapper by nature, quick to temper in most cases, but he didn’t think hauling off and laying Miles out with a haymaker would go over very well in the company they were keeping. 

Done with pints, the evening wound down to the lads, ladies in tow, reconvening back at Alex’s flat. He’d barely set his bags down in the front entrance when he’d arrived that morning, and was whisked away to brunch with his parents. He volunteered moving the party to his flat, and with a stop off at the liquor store, his home was full of people again, those that he held closest to his heart. Upon hearing of Nick and Matt’s assistance with Jamie’s project, Alex immediately headed for the bathroom, Jamie in tow, to inspect the work.

“Eh?” Jamie murmurs, leaning down next to Alex.

“I said it don’t look like the damage were that bad.”

“It were a fookin’ mess,” Jamie shrugs, liking the way Alex’s shoulder presses into his. The younger lad smells incredible, and Jamie’s fingers curl with the effort not to touch. “Still not put back together completely.”

“Then we’ll do it together, yeah?”

Jamie turns his head and finds Alex’s eyes fixed on him - perhaps a little dazed, laced in whiskey and sleep, and Jamie’s throat tightens when he realizes he isn’t sure if Alex is talking bathroom tiles or broken hearts.

Alex is smiling a second later, that carefree smile that brightens his face and makes his nose scrunch. He claps a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It’ll be fookin’ foon,” Alex murmurs, fingers bunching into Jamie’s sweater, curling along the neckline, dark gaze sweeping from Jamie’s clear blue eyes, to his mouth, and pausing there.

He leaves his fingerprints on Jamie’s neck with the way he suddenly grips him, and shuddering sighs fill the small space before lips meet softly, wetly parting on thick groans. There’s a scant pause where there is nothing but the hurried and hushed breath of both Alex and Jamie, and then they collide once more, the kiss tearing off the verbal bandage that was slapped on before Alex went to Paris and, as they are now discovering, was merely a temporary fix. There’s nostalgia in the way Alex’s teeth press to Jamie’s bottom lip, and it’s achingly bitter the way Jamie remembers exactly the way Alex likes a tongue in his mouth. When Alex finally pulls back, Jamie is panting, eyes still closed, arousal warmly pooling into his veins.

Alex licks his lips before opening his eyes, humming at the sweet taste of Jamie’s mouth that is so different from Miles, or Lex.

Lex.

A startled gasp leaves Alex’s lungs and he stands suddenly, and begins to fumble around words. “Eh...I...hm. Jamie,” He finally settles on, rousing the older lad.

Jamie blinks, and studies Alex, pale and panicked, and swings his gaze to the doorway of the bathroom, thinking the worst: that Lex, or perhaps Katie, have caught them in a compromising position.

The doorway is blissfully empty, and from the corner of his eye Jamie catches Alex moving away to lean on the counter with a soft sigh. He’s looking at his hands, fiddling with the Death Ramps ring on his little finger, rubbing his palms together before sliding them down his jeans.

“M’ very sorry, Jamie,” Alex murmurs gently, looking like he might cry. “I dunno what m’doin’ anymore.” His fingers curl into fists as he stands straighter. 

Jamie stands, too, and leans next to the tub surround, carefully avoiding the bare drywall. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Alex argues, shaking his head, and running his hands over his tousled mop of hair. “It’s _not_ okay, Jameh. I thought...I thought I had it under control but...It’s like...like a fookin’ ‘urricane...a malestrom, yeah? God, listen to me, spoutin’ off weather metaphors like a fookin’ amateur.” He rubs his eyes and then finally looks at Jamie, cocking his jaw stubbornly. “I thought I kicked your habit, made Kane the methadone to my madness, but all it’s done is drive me closer, yeah?” He snorts, disgusted with his inability to verbalize exactly what it is that makes him such a fool for Jamie. “An’ fookin’ Lex,” he mumbles, continuing on his drunken monologue. “She don’t deserve this. But she’s as stubborn as me, yeah? Won’t see the subtleties for what they are - an’ they’re not very fookin’ subtle at that.”

“Al,” Jamie finally speaks, crossing the bathroom. But when he reaches Alex, he’s uncertain of his course of action. While the admission of Miles being a replacement for Jamie makes Jamie seethe, that’s all Miles was to Alex: a placeholder. It should make Jamie feel better of course, but how long until that’s all Jamie is - a placeholder for Miles? The thoughts careen into the alcohol Jamie’s consumed, and he’s more than a little uneasy how badly he wants to lean into the younger lad’s space, to inhale him, have Alex’s hands on him. The way Alex is standing and glaring at the floor tells Jamie he’s better off not crowding the lad. So, Jamie sighs, and looks down at his hands. “Whatever happened before...it’s before. It’s not now.” The words taste stale, and he all but chokes on them.

The laugh that fills the small space of the bathroom is slightly bitter, more resigned than anything, and Alex rakes his fingers over his hair. “It is now. It were then, it were Paris, it’s _now_ , Jamie, because it’s _you_.”

Jamie draws a short breath at the confession, but other than that, he remains silent, not knowing what to say.

“It’s you an’ me, Jameh,” Alex declares. “Like it’s always been.”

“Paris,” Jamie hears himself say softly.

“S’that?” Alex mumbles.

Jamie bristles, the memory of Miles’ fingers lacing with Alex’s upon their arrival at the Packhorse coming to the fore of Jamie’s mind. Fuck, he couldn’t do that in public with Alex - couldn’t do anything of the sort, and that thought sat like an iron weight in Jamie’s guts. “Weren’t you an’ me in Paris, eh, Alex? Were you an’ fookin’ Miles, yeah?”

“I-”

“Was he right there beside you when you asked me to do this?” Jamie snarls, gesturing to the bathroom. “Have a good laugh, callin’ me up, askin’ for me ‘elp, an’ then what? You roll over an’ let him ‘ave ya?”

Alex’s cheeks burn, and he narrows his eyes at Jamie’s tone. Of course, Jamie has hit the nail right on the head, but he doesn’t understand - doesn’t get that he used Miles. Not that using someone else is something to be proud of, but if Jamie hadn’t been invading his every thought and action, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

“I could have joost as easily called while you were in bed wiv Katie,” Alex finally mutters. “Wouldn’t your face ‘ave been red.” Alex’s smile is serpentine, deadly, and he feels an inch of satisfaction as Jamie flinches at it.

Despite the smile, and the stinging truth, Jamie recovers from Alex’s bite, and stares with a blunt and brutish gaze, nostrils flared, chest heaving. Alex has always known what buttons to push to get Jamie’s blood up. But he also knows all the ways to calm Jamie down, and Alex’s smile falters as he takes a step forward, apology cocked and ready to fire.

“Hey!” Nick appears in the doorway, his face split with a drunken grin. “There’s you two. Eh, lookit tha’, nice job we did, eh, Al?” And, in true Nick style, he steps into the tension and diffuses it, at least for the moment, and changes the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’, then? Pink? Purple? Baby blue to go with Cookie’s eyes?”

Jamie blinks said blue eyes at Nick and feels his heart jump to his throat. “What?” he manages to croak.

“Personally, I like green,” Nick continues, batting his eyelashes before snickering. “Seriously, though, Al...I ‘ad, like...drywall snot all over me jeans after this.” He then lifts his hands and flexes his fingers. “Almost tore me fingers out, too - then where would we be, wivout a bass player?”

“Not like a replacement can’t be replaced,” Jamie snaps suddenly.

Nick gasps and slightly recoils, feeling the sting that is buried within Jamie’s words. He lets out an uncertain chuckle and looks to Alex for guidance.

“Eh,” Alex interjects, pushing off the counter and stepping between Jamie and Nick. He glances at Jamie as he moves. “Don’t fookin’ be like that, Jameh.” But his eyes say more: _You’re not mad at Nick, you’re mad at me_.

“Ah, he’s drunk,” Nick mutters, waving Jamie off. “Drunk an’ surly. Has been for the last few weeks. Don’t know why, though - Katie not puttin’ out?”

“Fook right off, ya coont,” Jamie snaps at Nick, fists curling as he takes another step towards Nick.

Nick’s face crumbles in disbelief at the sudden turn in Jamie’s attitude. “What the fook, Cookie?” he asks, backing away. “I were takin’ the piss - Jesus, I think you’ve had enough,” he adds, nodding to the Boddington’s can resting on the toilet tank. Even at that, Nick grins cheekily and takes another sip of his drink.

“You should talk,” Alex replies, cocking an eyebrow. He draws a breath and sighs, and then rubs his eyes. “I fink I’ll call it, boys. I’m fookin’ knackered. An’ I’ve got tile to choose on the morrow.”

“Aye, right,” Nick nods, glancing once more at Jamie.

“Fook off, Mal,” Jamie sighs, unable to help the smile that pressed his mouth. “Go sleep it off. We’ve got rehearsal tomorrow night.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Nick groans, putting aside the argument with Jamie. He lingers, though, looking between Alex and Jamie, taking in their stance, the flush in Jamie’s cheeks, and the way Alex is biting his bottom lip - the same way he did when faced with a question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “See ya tomorrow, then,” Nick says with a faint smile.

Jamie is quick to follow, a million thoughts racing and crashing into each other. Just before he makes it through the door, Alex’s hand is out, planting firmly on Jamie’s chest and halting him. “I mean it, Jamie. It’s _you_.” His words are thick with his emotions, and he hears the waver in his voice.

Jamie blinks tiredly, and found his hand covering Alex’s. “It’s late,” he says gently. “We’ve got a lot to do in the next few days.” He watches Alex closely.

“Aye,” Alex nods, flexing his fingers under Jamie’s hold. He takes a cautious step closer.

Jamie’s heart begins rattling in his chest, and he wonders if Alex can feel it. He wants Alex to kiss him, wants to kiss him in return, but then what? 

“It’s fookin’ grim, innit?” Alex continues softly, his fingers still curling against the worn cotton of Jamie’s shirt. “This dance we’re ‘avin’. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doin.’”

“Not like you ain’t got the moves,” Jamie replies, gently plucking Alex’s hand from his chest and lowering it. He makes his exit before Alex’s mind can formulate any response, and he collects Katie from where she’s giggling on the couch, and leaves the flat.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Remember that interview where Alex was asked if he was handy around the house? And he said, "I'm alright, but Cookie's your man."
> 
> Cookie's your man, people.
> 
> ::whisper screams:: Cookie's your man.

December is a rather bleak affair in England, made more so by the uneasiness inside of Alex’s Mini Cooper. The heat is blasting, and so are The Vaccines, but it’s tense as Alex maneuvers the low-riding car up out of High Green and towards the edge of Sheffield where the box stores are.

Jamie is staring out the window, and Alex is stealing glances, hoping to see the blue of Jamie’s eyes, or the curl of his smile, or even the flush of his cheeks, but his hopes are in vain. He’s becoming quite familiar with the back of Jamie’s head this morning, and not in the way he hoped. Alex has opened and closed his mouth a dozen times, not knowing what to say to grind down the edge between him and Jamie. Cracking the window, Alex lights another cigarette, and tucks it into the corner of his mouth as he steers the car along the slushy roads. 

“Eh… pull over here,” Jamie suddenly speaks, his voice rough with lack of sleep and too much drink the night before.

“Wot?” Alex blinks, but gears down, and edges towards the curb.

Jamie’s already unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for the door handle.

“Cookeh?”

“Need a fookin’ coffee,” Jamie mutters, hopping out. “Want anythin’?” he asks, ducking his head back in and _really_ looking at Alex for the first time that morning.

Tired, dull, blue eyes stare right into Alex, and the younger lad doesn’t miss the shadow of Jamie’s whiskers, or the way his hair is curling haphazardly at his collar. Alex’s voice catches before he can reply, ‘Just you,’, and he quickly gulps, and then looks out the windshield. “Coffee, yeah.”

Jamie nods, internally relieved that he can take a moment to regroup. He shuts the door and moves towards the small cafe, where he orders a pair of lattes, because they’ll take a bit more time than just drip. Standing in the steam of the coffee shop, Jamie lets out a shuddering breath and rubs his eyes.

Avoiding Alex’s gazes, his looks, and glances, and stares, had been utter _hell_. Jamie felt a shit for doing it, but he knew as soon as he looked at Alex, he’d find himself forgetting the sleepless nights, the restlessness, the uncertainty that Alex seems to inject into Jamie’s veins every time he’s near. It’s not like Alex’s absences don’t do the same, and that’s what makes it worse: there is no reprieve save for brief moments of escape such as this one; a cafe, hissing steam, busy customers.

He just needed to know...was fairly certain he wanted to know (and kept himself up at night with a constant litany of, ‘ _do I want to know_?’) if he affected Alex the same way Alex affected him. If Alex was suffering as much as he was, well, perhaps Jamie wouldn’t feel like he was a lost cause. He didn’t ask to have feelings for Alex that went beyond friendship, and possibly beyond any conventional relationship, they just sort of absorbed and multiplied and suddenly, he was taking up so much room in Jamie’s heart and mind that it scared him some days.

The girl making the lattes broke his thought pattern and pushed the steaming cups of milk and espresso towards him, and she gave him a brilliant smile that, on any other day, would have prompted Jamie to return it with as much enthusiasm. Today, he manages barely a quirk of his lips and a nod in thanks, before he’s popping lids on the cups and facing the walk back to the car, and back to Alex.

+

Alex chooses black and white tiles.

It’s not surprising to Jamie, really, but he’s feeling rather grey, like the day, and uncertain. He’s going through the motions, smiling wanly when Alex makes a joke about Jamie needing another trowel to replace the one he chucked into the Ocha last year (he _did_ chuck it, rather gloriously, to the amusement of the other three, and there’d been howling and beer drinking to make it a rite of passage), mulling over grout and trim, until finally they are in the loading area, and Alex is handing over the purchase slip to the lad on the platform. The wait for the lad to count and verify their order is stifling, and Alex keeps mum, sensing that Jamie is in no mood to talk - at least, not in that awkward, jarring, lame way that he’d tried in the store. Once the order is set aside, they are left to load it.

Jamie pulls his work gloves from his jacket pocket and begins stashing tiles into the boot of Alex’s car, thankful for the distraction, and Alex jumps into action, too. For a while they work in silence, and sleet begins falling. It’s not the most popular time of year for home improvement; the loading bay is more or less deserted, save for the occasional sniffle against the frigid damp, and a grunt or groan from the lifting.

By the time they’re almost done, Jamie’s hair is soaked, and there’s melted sleet and snow dripping off his eyelashes. Alex fairs no better, his dark hair curling with the wet, sticking to his cheekbones in a way that makes Jamie’s fingers twitch to push it back behind his ears. Jamie suddenly notices how close they’re standing, having subconsciously moved closer to one another throughout the process of heavy lifting, and the way Alex’s shoulders twitch and shiver in the cold, cutting wind.

“Fookin’ bloody Christ,” Jamie mutters, frowning at Alex’s soaked jumper and the pink in his cheeks. “You’re gonna catch a cold.” He nods to the car, indicating they should seek cover there, and he turns to amble back to the passenger side, but Alex’s hand catches the front of his jacket. Alex isn’t a lad of monumental strength, and is in fact mistaken for being frail and small, but his hold on Jamie feels like a tonne.

For a moment, Jamie merely stares at the hand clutching him, at the long, graceful fingers red and wet with weather, and he finds himself closing his hand over Alex’s. He thinks he might move those questing fingers once more, like he did last night, but Jamie seems to be of iron, and Alex’s magnetism is a mysterious thing - Jamie doesn’t want to let go, and Alex, it appears, won’t.

They’re so close now that the damp denim of their jeans brushes against one another, thighs bracing against the wind, trying to stand despite the want to collapse. All at once, they’re nothing more than a couple of boys snogging for dear life in the deserted loading dock of a hardware conglomerate. Muffled whimpers and whispered pleas become more aching and desperate when tongues swipe bottom lips, and hands grip harder, landing on shoulders, on waists and wrists. Alex tastes like rain, and cigarettes and something sweet that’s not coffee, but his lips are soft, and wet. 

“Al,” Jamie gasps when he’s given a moment to breathe.

Alex takes it as a cue and dives back in, mouth worrying the tender spot under Jamie’s chin, fingers digging into his ribs as he bites and sucks. His tongue makes a hot, wandering path down to Jamie’s Adam’s apple, and Alex’s fingers tuck into Jamie’s wet hair, holding his head up, and back, so that Alex might have better access to the parts that make Jamie pant.

“Alex,” Jamie tries again, pressing his hands against the younger lad, attempting to put some sort of distance between them.

“Hmm,” Alex murmurs dreamily, tilting his head to work the other side of Jamie’s neck, scraping his teeth along his jaw. “Jamie,” he whispers wetly, finally pulling back and gulping for air. “Fook, Jameh, I weren’t kiddin’. I want ya.” His body tenses and pushes against Jamie’s, hips rocking, and lips smiling when he feels how hard Jamie has gotten. “An’ you want me, yeah?”

All Jamie can do is groan thickly, his face a mask of confusion, and lust. “Not here,” Jamie manages to whimper, tilting his head back against the frame of the car and blinking up into the rain. “Not here, Alex.”

“Al,” Alex replies, smoothing a hand down Jamie’s chest, daring to drop for a moment onto the bulge beneath the wet fly of Jamie’s jeans. “Like it when you call me ‘Al’.” He wipes water from Jamie’s face and blinks widely when Jamie finally looks at him. “If not here, where?”

“Gimme your keys,” Jamie growls, digging his hand into the front pocket of Alex’s jeans, fighting with the damp fabric and the snug fit. He’s on auto pilot now, but the vestiges of doubt still sit in the wings of his conscience. Jamie ignores them, and pulls the keys from Alex’s pocket. His fingers turn and hook the pocket though, and pull Alex’s hips flush with his once more. He nods, staring at Alex’s mouth, feeling his dick twitch where it’s laying stiff next to Alex’s, wet cotton separating them. 

“Yeah, Al,” he says, nodding again. “Yeah. I want ya.”

Alex’s body sags with the admission, his face softening with pleasure as Jamie’s words sink in. “If you’re drivin’, let’s go.”

Despite the keys in his hand, Jamie feels very out of control.

He dares to admit he likes it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

_“Gimme your keys,” Jamie growls, digging his hand into the front pocket of Alex’s jeans, fighting with the damp fabric and the snug fit. He’s on auto pilot now, but the vestiges of doubt still sit in the wings of his conscience. Jamie ignores them, and pulls the keys from Alex’s pocket. His fingers turn and hook the pocket though, and pull Alex’s hips flush with his once more. He nods, staring at Alex’s mouth, feeling his dick twitch where it’s laying stiff next to Alex’s, wet cotton separating them._

_“Yeah, Al,” he says, nodding again. “Yeah. I want ya.”_

_Alex’s body sags with the admission, his face softening with pleasure as Jamie’s words sink in. “If you’re drivin’, let’s go.”_

_Despite the keys in his hand, Jamie feels very out of control._

_He dares to admit he likes it._

+

The drive back to Alex’s is even more silent, and seems to take twice as long as the journey from, but it’s the anticipation, the temptation, the notion that once they arrive they’re going to fuck. As Jamie shifts gears and pushes the speed limit he tries to ignore the very mechanics of the act, and focuses on Alex, _just_ Alex, and the way he looks when he comes in Jamie’s mouth, or in Jamie’s grip. Every red light allows for readjustment, Jamie pressing his hand down against his fly with a grunt, even as Alex looks on unabashedly, his gaze heating with Jamie’s action, and smoke curling from his nose.

“Fookin’ hurry, Jameh,” Alex breathes, flicking the spent cigarette out the window and suddenly leaning over the gear box and pressing his hand over Jamie’s where it’s trying to alleviate the ache in his cock. That clever tongue of Alex’s flits over Jamie’s ear, and he lets out a breathy sigh that only makes Jamie’s foot drive the gas pedal to the floor.

They all but abandon the car in the lot outside of Alex’s building, and they take the steps as fast as they can, pausing to kiss on every landing, and grope, Jamie whispering nasty thoughts he never believed would see the light of day. It all feels so right, and so good, and the sounds Alex makes only encourage Jamie to take more, to press his teeth harder to Alex’s lips, and tug those dark waves, and grip the younger lad’s ass, fingertips bruising through the denim. He’d fuck Alex right through both of their jeans if he knew he could; he’s already got Alex’s belt undone, and the dark hair below Alex’s navel is teasing him, and luring him up the stairs.

And Alex - Alex is no slouch, a natural sensualist, prone to touch and taste, and breath. He shudders with a sigh as he scrapes his palm between Jamie’s thighs, watching with flared nostrils as Jamie ruts into said palm, his own brand of whimpers echoing in the hall. 

“Cookeh,” Alex purrs, rolling his hips and arching in Jamie’s grip. In the next moment, Alex’s forehead lands on Jamie’s shoulder while his fingers card through the blond waves on Jamie’s head. He shifts in his shoes and exhales shakily, before meeting Jamie’s summer-sky gaze. “God, Cookeh, joost sail me up the stairs. I’m fookin’ ‘bout done waitin’.” He tightens his hold on Jamie’s hair and licks his lips, a move that makes Jamie groan, and pant.

Alex is certain that his feet don’t even touch the remaining steps to his flat. Jamie more or less drags him up them, tripping on wet soles and welcome mats, until finally he’s pressing the younger lad to the door, and using the keys he’d lifted from Alex earlier to unlock it.

They make headway to the bedroom, damp clothing shucked off as they go. Jamie’s boots get kicked aside somewhere near the living room, and Alex ignores the wet and muck they track in because he’s too busy wiggling out of his soaking jumper, shivering when the cool air hits him. Jamie takes that as a cue and pulls the smaller lad to him, and Alex groans at the solid heat of Jamie’s body as they kiss once more, slower this time, but no less urgent. If anything, they’re even more desperate.

When he’s down to his boxers, Alex pulls Jamie down to the bed, and the wet scrape of Jamie’s jeans against his thighs makes him wince, but otherwise enhances everything. He can’t get enough of Jamie’s mouth, and the older lad swallows every moan and sigh that Alex heaves. His hips are twisting madly, bucking against Jamie to no avail.

The sound Alex makes when Jamie moves back to discard his jeans makes Jamie chuckle. It’s a groan, thick with longing, and annoyance. “Shut up, Al,” Jamie murmurs, pushing their mouths back together as his buckle clicks open. 

Alex shudders and pulls his lips away with a gasp, angling his head down to watch as Jamie removes his jeans and briefs. The flat plane of Jamie’s belly, ridged with muscle, dusted in dark blond hair, is too inviting, and Alex slips a slender arm between them, palm flat against Jamie’s hot skin. The color rushes up Jamie’s golden complexion as Alex’s hand finally closes over his cock and tugs, and his cheeks burn as Alex meets his eyes once more.

The look Jamie is greeted with makes him pause, and the movie-reel of actions he’s been playing over and over in his mind suddenly flicks to a blank screen, like the film has run out. Alex is anxious, more so than usual, his dark eyes wide, his mouth open and panting, his fingers still curling around Jamie’s length and pulling the hottest, bone-shivering sensations up Jamie’s body. But Alex is shivering, too, gulping between softly moaning Jamie’s name, and gently pleading.

“Jameh, please. Please, don’t stop,” he whispers, cheeks flushing prettily, his mouth pouting.

With a grunt, Jamie places his hand over Alex’s where it still strokes over his cock, and holds him there a moment while he kisses Alex into wordless submission. From Alex’s mouth, Jamie moves down to his throat, and further still to the wings of his collarbones. He inhales, nose pressed firmly to the dip between those collarbones. He’s missed Alex’s scent; he’d caught it in the Packhorse last night, and again in the bathroom, in the car that morning, the loading dock, the hallway, but _this_ \- this bared skin, and bodily warmth - is just so much better, without the smoke and mirrors of prying eyes. Jamie breathes Alex’s name, and his lips scrape a delicate, dark nipple, and then the other, resulting in a sharp hiss from the younger lad. 

For a moment, Jamie is content to suck, and lick, and make Alex suffer, as his free hand strokes down further along the lean planes of Alex’s torso, fingertips slipping through that dark, curling hair, shifting his hips and pressing them down, pulling Alex’s fingers away from his cock, until their shafts are pressed against one another, and Jamie’s letting his weight fall on Alex. The way Alex’s lean thighs open, and then hug Jamie’s ribs is enough to send another shudder of lust through Jamie, and he winces at the ache that comes with the sudden flare of pleasure.

Alex is stymied. This...this face to face thing has never happened to him before. Not with Miles, anyway. He thought that perhaps face to face was reserved for...well, it doesn’t matter what he thought, really, because this is _Jamie_ , and Jamie’s always had a way to throw Alex’s preconceived notions overboard. Alex is aware of the wet, sticky patches of skin as they cool, and he’s full on whimpering as his cock pulses and oozes with his excitement. His toes curl, and he bites back a moan when Jamie thumbs through that slippery mess on the head of his erection, and brings that thumb up between his lips to taste. 

Alex yanks Jamie down by his hair and completely ravishes his mouth. The taste of his own excitement on Jamie’s tongue is intoxicating, and Alex’s breath rushes in through his nose, sailing out when his mouth leaves Jamie’s with another thick moan. Alex all but melts when Jamie’s broad hand curls under his thigh and splays over the taut skin of his ass, gripping and pulling, lifting Alex’s lower half off of the bed, and driving it back down with a heavy thrust of his hips. Jamie ruts like an animal possessed, top lip curled in a sneer, and Alex hangs onto Jamie’s shoulders and lets himself be handled. He needs more. Wants more. Has to have it; he lets go of Jamie’s shoulder and stretches a long arm out to the side table, fumbling blindly in the drawer until his fingers close on the small bottle of lube. 

“Jamie,” he huffs, pressing the bottle between them and into Jamie’s searching hand. Alex nods when Jamie pauses and silently asks for permission, and whimpers at the way Jamie licks his lips. There’s a click, and some rustling, and the hand that had been splayed on Alex’s ass cheek moves down between them, and then - 

“F-ff-u-uck,” Alex sighs at Jamie’s gentle, uncertain touch. He whines when Jamie circles around that taut ring and presses inside once more, and Jamie freezes, and opens his eyes wide in worry.

“S’all right, luff,” Alex huffs, nodding, and tugging his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “M’not gonna break, yeah?” He leans up and kisses Jamie once more, softly and surely, and hums as Jamie relaxes into it.

“I don’t,” Jamie whispers, face flushing, “I don’t know what to do…” His words die off with his admission. Really, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but Alex seems so sure of himself, and Jamie feels like he’s without a net.

Nodding again, Alex swallows and reaches between them, taking up Jamie’s searching hand and placing two of Jamie’s fingers against him and adding pressure. “Slow n’ steady.” Alex chokes on a moan as Jamie heeds his instruction. “Thassit,” Alex murmurs, drunk on arousal. “More, yeah? I want more, Jameh.” His lean hips twist and then tilt up, knees drawing up. Between them, Alex’s cock is aching, laying against his belly, smearing the skin with precome, the sensitive head scraped with the coarse hair on Jamie’s belly.

Alex is positively scorching, and soft, and tight. Jamie blushes as he flexes his fingers and sees Alex’s throat bob, and his long lashes flutter against his pale cheekbones. “Jamie,” Alex gasps, pushing himself onto Jamie’s fingers, and Jamie curls his fingers again, and finds a gentle, steady rhythm that soon has Alex panting and clutching the bedding beneath him. Watching Alex writhe in pleasure only makes Jamie bolder, and it makes his own cock swell as he realizes the rarity that is Alex in this moment: gorgeous in his mounting arousal, completely unabashed, and Jamie craves the freedom Alex is displaying.

As if sensing this, Alex’s eyes flutter open, and he pants softly as he rides Jamie’s fingers, and finds Jamie’s cock once more with his hand. “What d’ya want to do t’me, Jamie? Hm?” He hisses sharply as Jamie’s fingers scrape against that bundle of nerves that make him see stars, and his eyes close as his head falls back to the bed. Alex answers his own question with a hotly rasped, “Fook me, Jameh. Fook me.” Alex’s eyes snap open again, and he grapples the back of Jamie’s neck and pulls him down so that his lips hover over Alex’s. “Please,” he says against Jamie’s mouth.

Jamie nods hurriedly, because god, yes, he wants to fuck Alex, to put everything he is into the younger man and make him fall apart. He didn’t know how badly he wanted it until now, and he’s frantic, and eager, and doing everything in his power to keep some modicum of composure. Alex’s voice, however, combined with the heat in it, and his body, are a worthy opponent for Jamie’s self control.

Leaning up on his free hand, Jamie slowly pulls his fingers free from Alex, wrenching a desperate moan from the younger lad as he does so, and then slicks both of them, cocks, hands, arsehole, all of it, with more lube. Alex’s knees fall further open, and he might feel incredibly vulnerable if Jamie wasn’t there protecting him. He takes hold of Jamie’s cock, squeezing and stroking, and looks into Jamie’s blue eyes as he presses the broad, smooth head against his arse. The breath Alex has been holding sails out steadily as he guides Jamie inside, and there’s a brief moment of panic, and of pain, as the flared head of Jamie’s cock breaches him, pushing through the hesitation, and bullshit two-stepping they’ve been doing for years.

The heat forces a groan from Jamie, and he holds Alex behind one knee as his other steadies the lad’s hip. He hears Alex’s gentle plea of, ‘keep going, please, Jamie, feels so fookin’ good, keep going, yes, yes,’ until Jamie can’t go any further. Alex’s cock is snug between their bellies, and Jamie’s is snug in Alex’s ass.

“Oh, fook, Al,” Jamie sighs. He bites his lip and glances down between them, taking in the sight. “Oh, fook, thas’ tight. Jesus fookin’ Christ.” He continues to curse even as Alex moves his hips and whimpers. Jamie gives an experimental thrust, and Alex all but comes up off the bed. So, Jamie does it again, drawing out a scant inch, and then pushing deep, and hard, and sure. He lands with a grunt, and drops his face to Alex’s shoulder, where he pinches skin and tendon between his teeth with a growl. With Alex’s cock trapped between them, Jamie is free to move his hands, and so he grips the back of Alex’s knee harder, and the other hand finds a firm grasp on Alex’s asscheek. He thrusts again, and grunts at Alex’s answering gasp.  
Another one of those long, throaty moans floats up from Alex’s lungs, and his hands scramble up Jamie’s back and clutch his shoulder and his hair, pulling Jamie against him harder. “Yes, Jameh,” Alex breathes hotly. He smiles at the gooseflesh that spreads over Jaime’s shoulders, and relishes in the tremor that runs through the older lad. It makes Alex shiver, too, especially as Jamie’s hand leaves his arse, and cards through Alex’s hair. 

Jamie snares the thick, dark strands, and pulls Alex’s face from his neck so that he can watch the prominent features twist and shift with every move of his hips. He’s beautiful, really, always has been, but the position they’re in leaves nothing to the imagination: they can both see everything, and feel everything, and touch everything. A particularly rough plunge makes Jamie cry out at the tight heat surrounding him, and Alex gasps, and pushes his head back into the mattress with another rough, “ _Yes_.” Christ above, Miles has never filled him like this - has never fucked him like this, and the realization makes Alex’s blood pump faster, and makes him push his hips up into Jamie.

He told Jaime he wouldn’t break, but he’s not sure how much longer he can hold himself together.

Jamie’s kissing him again, hands grappling his ass after leaving off his hair. He shoves harder into Alex, pushing his toes into the mattress for traction, and slipping that last inch so that he nudges that spot deep inside of Alex once more. A surprised gasp finds Jamie’s ears and he feels Alex tighten, and shudder. The younger lad’s fingers dig into his shoulders, bitten-down nails snagging the skin there.

“Right there, Jameh,” Alex urges, once he’s torn his mouth from Jamie’s bruising kisses. Sucking in another gasp, Alex’s fingers slide through Jamie’s hair and lift the other lad’s head so that he can look him in the eye. “God, don’t stop. Don’t you fookin’ stop.”

“No,” Jamie grunts, sweat beading on his forehead and splashing onto Alex’s collarbones. “M’not gonna hold back anymore.”

The confession breaks them both, reducing them to sweat, and grunts, growls, hard hands on hot flesh, and their whispered urgency makes Jamie thrust faster, and harder, and Alex takes it, and lifts greedy hips to take even more. Jamie’s grip on the situation, flimsy as it was, begins to falter, and he clenches his jaw with the sudden swell of electricity between his hips. Alex senses it, and encourages it, his moans coming loud and hot, as his fingernails score up Jamie’s back, and his teeth leave marks on Jamie’s shoulder. The frantic, heavy breath of his name on Jamie’s lips makes Alex lightheaded, and the deep pounding, the burn and the pain and the swelling, searing ache of pleasure melt together, and narrow, shooting through his veins. He can’t stop, and with a raw howl born of pure, pleasing lust, Alex comes, his cock spurting hot and thick between his belly, and Jamie’s. He tightens around Jamie’s length with each pulse, pleasure racking his body even as he clings to Jamie and shudders. He hears Jamie curse, feels Jamie’s hips crash and speed up, and falter and then strain, and Jamie’s coming, too, flooding Alex with so much heat that it makes the younger lad blush.

In the aftershocks, they gulp their breaths, and stare at each other, eyes wide with fascination, and wonder. With a huff, Jamie groans, and rolls his hips, making Alex hiss with a wince. He places a hand on Jamie’s hip to hold him still, and hums as he closes his eyes. “Joost...don’t fookin’ move yet, yeah?” The fact that he wants the closeness from Jamie is not lost on Alex; more often than not when he and Miles were spent, Alex would roll over immediately, withdraw, leave the bed, or the room, and Miles wouldn’t bat an eye (none that Alex had seen, at any rate). But now, he doesn’t want to move, to break the bubble they’ve surrounded themselves with, and grips Jamie’s shoulders and pulls him down until their chests touch, and Alex can hook an ankle behind Jamie’s knee.

“Joost stay,” Alex mumbles, pushing his nose into Jamie’s damp hair. “An’ be here when I wake up.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is discussion of the thing called Jamex, what it means for Milex, and sex ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

“What are ya doin’?”

On his hands and knees in the bottom of Alex’s tub, nothing but his boxers and work boots on, Jamie glances back over his shoulder to Alex standing in the doorway, wearing a curious smile and a pair of navy boxer briefs. His normally pale skin is awash in red blooms - bite marks, scratches, bruises, and scrapes - and he wears each mark with pride, the smugness apparent in his eyes.

Jamie chuckles and gestures to the bare wall surrounding the tub. “Finishing the job?” He looks back to Alex to find him grinning.

“Thought we’d taken care of that,” Alex quips, even as his cheekbones turn pink.

Jamie swallows and can’t help but match Alex’s smile, and he feels his face flame, knowing that it’s redder than Alex’s. “The tiles, Al. I’ve been here half the day. Look rather strange that nowt got done, yeah?”

Alex snorts, and rolls his eyes, before carefully padding into the bathroom, avoiding Jamie’s tools and the stacks of tiles Jamie had brought up while Alex dozed through the late morning they’d come to. The pack of cigarettes he’s clutching comes into play, and he perches on the toilet and lights one, flicking ashes into the sink next to him as he silently watches Jamie for a spell.

There is something soothing in fitting tiles together so precisely. It does remind Jamie somewhat of playing guitar, and of football, because of the order and pattern. A sort of peacefulness surrounds him as he works methodically, and he’s aware of Alex watching him. Usually, he gets ruffled when he’s scrutinized too closely, but Alex’s observation just feels right. He’s used to it, he supposes, what with the way Alex steals glances when they’re playing, on stage or off.

At the thought of playing again, of the band being together again, Jamie smiles softly, and sits back on his heels. Curling his fingers into a fist, and then straightening them, he glances back to where Alex sits and gives him half a smile. “This is murder on me hands,” he explains. “An’ not in the good way. Not the way guitar strings cut in.”

“You miss it,” Alex points out, gesturing with his cigarette before blowing a stream of smoke out over his head. He nods, and doesn’t wait for Jamie’s reply, because he knows the answer is ‘yes’.

Jamie shrugs anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I miss it. Miss the energy. The feeling. We were on that last tour for ages, an’ then...you know...the break is all right, I suppose.” He frowns at his lack of verbal agility, and turns back to the tiles, fitting another in place, tapping the edges to make it flush.

Jamie's admission makes Alex smile warmly. He smokes in silence, save for the gentle _snick-tink_ of a tile being placed. “I’ve a couple of new riffs,” Alex says a few minutes later. “They aren’t much, but they’re something to go on, I fink. Some words, too, yeah? But...they’re not ready yet. They’re still very much out of order.” He makes a face, scrunching his nose, and stands, pitching the spent cigarette into the bowl of the toilet. The lid slams shut and he flushes, and perches on the closed seat once more. “It were easy in Paris, cos’ it’s not just _my_ words.”

Jamie tenses at the word _Paris_ , and he fumbles with a tile, catching it before it falls and shatters in the tub. His only response is a grunt, and that’s more against the sudden churning of his guts. He sets the tile aside and rubs his palms over the cotton of his boxers. “Look, Al,” he begins softly, not knowing exactly how to tackle the elephant that’s suddenly shouldered its way into the small space. “I...I know that you...an’ Miles...are...or were...I mean, you don’t hafta say owt, but...don’t...don’t direct me down this road if you’re not willing to ride the whole way.”

Alex blinks at Jamie, and his words, and then looks to his hands where they rest on his lap. Jamie turns his head round to look at Alex, and when Alex looks back to Jamie, he’s unable to look away from those imploring, pale blue eyes.

“Joost tell me that if it’s you an’ me, it ain’t you and Miles.”

Alex’s mouth twists wryly, and he shakes his head at Jamie’s words. Misreading Alex’s reaction, Jamie tenses, and stands, stepping out of the tub to stand before Alex who’s still sitting on the toilet seat.

“Alex,” Jamie prompts. “If you can’t-”

“Miles said the same fing,” Alex admits softly. Lifting his head, he offers another weak smile, and his fingers fiddle with the cigarette pack. “He said the same thing, you know.” That had been the speech Miles had prepared that second last night in Paris, the one where Alex had shut himself in the shower, high on coke and drunk on Jamie. Miles had lain it down the next day as they readied to visit the studio one last time. Alex had asked Miles to be patient. He needed to see where things with Jamie actually stood before he made any sort of decision. “He’s not stupid, Jamie. Whenever I was wiv ‘im, more oft than not I were finkin’ of you. But’ whenever I’m wiv you, I’m wiv _you_ , Jamie. It’s never been any other way.” He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t want it any other way.”

Jamie perches on the edge of the tub and tugs the cigarettes from Alex’s grip. He’s never been a smoker, but he’s been going against the grain for what seems like an eternity, so why mess with a pattern? He lights one, and puffs away silently for a moment. “And your tour? Wiv...wiv Miles, I mean. You guys have dates already lined up, startin’ in April. How long’s that lastin’ for? Three months? Six?”

Alex nods. “Bout six, yeah. Probably. Maybe a bit longer? Dunno. Won’t be like a year long affair or anyfin’.” His mouth lifts a fraction. “We need to get back in the studio, yeah? The four of us. I’m hoping by next year-”

“Alex,” Jamie cuts off, grinning fondly at the enthusiasm in the younger lad’s voice. He shakes his head. “So, what...where does that leave you an’ Miles?”

And, deflated a little bit, Alex sighs, and leans back against the toilet tank, narrow shoulders lifting with a shrug. “Dunno.”

Jamie lifts an eyebrow. Of course Alex knows; from the way he and Miles were simultaneously linking arms and sinking hearts at the Packhorse, summat is about, and Jamie’s determined to find out where everyone stands on this field.

“An’ you an’ me?” Jamie dares to venture. His voice is barely above a whipser - he doesn’t trust it to not waver if he speaks any louder.

Alex squirms at Jamie’s expression and purses his lips stubbornly.

“For fuck’s sake, Al, you clammin’ up after _that_?” Jamie flings an arm in the direction of the bedroom, and then gets to his feet, needing space before he _really_ blows up. He flicks the burning cigarette to the sink, and takes a step towards the door.

“No!” Alex yelps, scrambling to his feet and blocking the doorway. His hands land on Jamie’s bare chest, and Alex swallows at the heat coming from him. “When I’m wiv you, I’m wiv _you_ ,” he breathes, “an’ when it’s Miles, it’s Miles.” 

Attempting to ignore Alex’s firm touch, Jamie narrows his eyes, and his next words are pitched low, and they grate: “You an’ the bloody Scouser come to a nice, tidy solution, then?” He hopes his tone conveys just what exactly Jamie thinks of Miles, and he sees Alex stiffen, a cool venir setting into the lad’s features.

Alex flicks his hair from his eyes, and juts his chin out in defiance. “None of this is fookin’ tidy, Jameh.” With a haughty sniff he stares Jamie down, and dares the other lad to say otherwise.

Jamie’s chest is heaving as he feels Alex’s words take hold. Alex is right. This whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen. Jamie’s never been a quitter, though, and he's already gone too far. He takes a deep breath and asks, “This what you want?”

“It’s all we got,” Alex answers with thick honesty. He waits with baited breath for Jamie’s reply.

It comes in the form of Jamie’s hands snaring Alex’s hips to press him back against the sink. “Then I want it all.”

Alex smiles ruefully. “Take it,” he whispers hotly.

Jamie shivers and hums at Alex’s plea, before quickly moving his mouth against Alex’s. Really, the younger lad is made for kissing, and to be kissed, so Jamie takes his time, and puts force and meaning into it. He smiles mischievously as he digs his thumbs into the grooves of Alex’s hipbones, making the younger man squeal and squirm. Licking his lips, Jamie reaches for a handful of Alex’s hair, right on the back of his head, and he pulls Alex’s head back with a quick yank, calling Alex’s bluff.

“ _You_ take it,” Jamie whispers back with a wicked gleam in his blue eyes.

Alex’s enthusiastic nod, offset by a whimper, makes Jamie’s head spin. He tightens his hold in Alex’s hair and then nudges Alex back against the sink. “C’mon, Jameh,” Alex hisses. His fingers dig into Jamie’s shoulder and hip, pulling him close as Alex tilts his hips forward. “Yeah, c’mon. Gonna make me take it? Hm?” He sneers, gives a little pout, and lets his eyes flutter closed at Jamie’s answering grunt. “C’mon,” he whispers again.

“Alex,” Jamie warns, twisting his fingers through the dark curls on Alex’s head, watching as the younger man arches and bites his lip. He feels that anxious tremor in his veins again, the one that tells him he’s going to lose control if he’s not careful, but then Alex is there, slipping a hand between them, sliding into Jamie’s boxers and grasping at the hard cock there.

Alex squeezes none-too-gently, and it pulls a jagged moan from somewhere deep in Jamie’s chest. “Yes,” Alex nods, encouraging the sound. “I were heartbroken when you decided not to sing anymore,” he muses, leaning forward and dragging his lips along Jamie’s jaw. “But you’d do it for me now, yeah? Hm? Wanna hear it, Jamie, you always been the loudmouth.”

There’s a hoarse shout, followed by a loud whine, and when Jamie realizes that Alex has successfully wrenched a chorus of sounds from him with only his hand, it makes Jamie’s blood boil. He tightens his grasp on Alex’s hair, pulls the lips from his neck, and he kisses Alex raw, thoroughly sweeping his tongue against Alex’s, and sucking at the plump bottom lip. Teeth come into play, both Jamie and Alex hissing and biting, and rewarding the other with thick groans. Jamie’s cock throbs in Alex’s grip, and suddenly, he’s propelled backwards. His shoulders connect with the opposite wall, his boots scuffing over the linoleum.

Alex follows, knees colliding with the floor as he lands at Jamie’s feet, and Jamie registers his fingers still sunk into Alex’s hair. His face twists with lust as he snares the dark curls harder, pulling Alex up so that his nose is pressed into Jamie’s boxers, and his breath is a ghost haunting his cock through the cotton.

“Want me mouf on ya, James?” Alex blinks up, face pulled tight with the pain of Jamie’s grip, but if anything, he’s enjoying it, pulling away from Jamie’s grasp and reveling in the bright, stinging flash in his scalp. “Yeah, you do,” Alex surmises, more to himself. He tucks his fingers into the waistband of Jamie’s boxers and tugs, smirking as the fabric gets caught on the head of Jamie’s erection. He works quickly though, and when the boxers are slipping to the floor, Alex sighs at the pull of Jamie’s fingers, directing his mouth right against his cock.

Jamie grunts, and his hips jerk forward at the picture Alex makes: rather wanton, but nevertheless demanding. He’s fascinated by how well Alex gives orders from down there on his knees, and the younger man speaks to the animal in Jamie, which makes him shudder, and surrender to it.

“Fookin’ take it, Al,” Jamie snarls, slipping his thumb to Alex’s jaw and pulling it down, opening Alex’s mouth and directing his cock inside.

Alex murmurs, “Mm hm,” and closes his eyes as he gets what he wants.

Jamie’s jaw tightens at the sudden heat and suction of Alex’s mouth. He can’t help but think this is the best he’s had, and his hips wind forward of their own accord. Alex’s eyelashes flutter, and he looks up at Jamie with wide, dark eyes as he swallows Jamie further, the head of him knocking at the back of Alex’s throat. There’s a grunt, and a sound of discomfort, but it serves to make Jamie’s hips buck again, effectively making Alex choke.

His cheeks go hot, and he backs off, apology already crossing his lips. His fingers loosen their hold on Alex’s hair, but Alex shakes his his head, and presses bruises into Jamie’s hips as he takes him down his throat once more. The sensations, and the eagerness in Alex’s moves, make Jamie inhale sharply, and his head bangs back against the wall as he all but melts into it.

“Oh, god, Alex,” Jamie whimpers, his hips picking up rhythm once more. He’s always been at the ready to follow Alex’s lead and now is no exception.

Pausing for a breath, Alex leans back, his next words hot against the sensitive tip of Jamie’s cock. “I know what you want, Jameh.” His hand comes up, long fingers curling around the scorching, steel-hard shaft, and his tongue slips out of his mouth to delicately swipe the spit that’s gathered there.

With his teeth still pulling at his bottom lip, Jaime looks down through heavily lidded eyes, and groans as he nods. Alex’s touch is rough, and unforgiving, and it makes Jamie’s toes curl in his work boots. 

“Tell me,” Alex demands hotly, moving his tongue to the bulbed tip of Jamie’s cock, and licking away the precome there.

Jamie huffs, cheeks red and billowing. “Wanna fuck ya,” he growls.

“Again,” Alex insists.

“I wanna fook ya, Al,” Jamie pants, already leaning down and catching Alex under his arms. With little effort, he hauls Alex up to his feet, and pushes him back into the counter. “Turn ‘round.”

Alex gulps, and does as he’s told. He’s used to taking orders, but he’s never felt so completely free in doing so. His eyes flutter closed as he moves, and he blindly reaches for the edges of the sink, clasping cool porcelain in his grip as Jamie’s fingers slide out of his hair, and down his spine. A hot, wet kiss lands on Alex’s shoulder, and another follows, this one on the shoulder blade. Another on the nape of his neck, and he feels Jamie’s knees brushing the backs of his thighs, making Alex shudder in anticipation. He groans, too, because he senses Jamie’s sudden shift to that loud-mouthed brat he can be. What Jamie wants, Jamie usually gets, and Alex likes the idea that he’s the thing in demand.

Calloused fingers drag down Alex’s ribs, deftly avoiding his nipples (and he suspects that’s on purpose, as he’s obviously made it perfectly clear to Jamie that this is a rather erogenous zone for him), and pulling at his hips, digging in and flexing in the joints of them, causing Alex to whine, and bend, his chest meeting the cold edge of the sink. For a moment, he’s back in Paris, pressed against that glass table, but then it’s Jamie’s voice next to his ear, and Jamie’s warmth draping over his back, the soft hairs on Jamie’s chest lighting each one of Alex’s nerve endings on fire. A hand steals over Alex’s belly, and there’s no hesitation before it slips beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, encountering the half-hard cock and giving it a squeeze, before stroking. The moan that is wrenched from Alex echoes in the bowl of the sink, coming back to Alex’s ears.

He likes how he sounds under Jamie’s ministrations.

The dark eyed lad finds himself pushing back into Jamie’s pelvis, hissing as Jamie’s first tightens around his cock, while his other hand works Alex’s boxers down over his bum, past his thighs, dropping to the floor, where Alex steps one foot out, giving him room to spread his legs. He turns his head and pants into the crook of his underarm, the sound of his mounting arousal only adding to the mix, and he licks his lips, panting harder as he feels Jamie’s fingers, wet with spit, reach and tease the hole that had been so thoroughly fucked only hours before. When Alex blinks and opens his eyes, he’s greeted with the sight of one of Jamie’s work boots firmly planted between his feet, and he groans thickly. His body reacts differently than it had with Miles - Alex doesn’t need to pretend that this is anyone else, and he doesn’t need to get Jamie out of his head. He just needs Jamie inside, again, and quickly; he’s on the verge of begging, and doesn’t think he’s above actually following through with it.

Daring to raise his head, Alex looks at their reflection in the mirror, and is met with a very different Jamie than the one from earlier that morning.

Jamie stares right back at him, focused, and hard. He doesn’t seem unsure anymore, which only serves to turn Alex on even more. His cock pulses in Jamie’s grasp, and that in turn make’s Jamie’s mouth open in discovery. All of Alex’s lusty secrets suddenly seeming to pour out of the lad, even though he hasn’t formed one word.

“You’re mine,” Jamie announces, hand curving up Alex’s asscheek too palm the warm handful of firm flesh, before pulling up to open the younger lad up. Jamie’s pelvis rolls forward, and when his cock, hard and hot, slips between Alex’s cheeks, he lets go of the handful of muscle, and revels in the soft, warm press along his shaft. “Mine, Alex, you’re mine. If not tomorrow, at least right now. You’re _mine_.”

Relief washes over Alex, a strange sensation under the circumstances, but a welcome one nonetheless. Biting his lip, he nods again, and pushes back against Jamie.

Jamie hums pleasantly at the way Alex is behaving, but he still has enough sense to pause. “Have you got anythin’? To...make this a little easier on you?”

For a moment, Alex almost tells Jamie to just do it - to just take already, never mind the pain that’s sure to accompany the breach; that he wants to feel everything. But with the way Jamie’s hips are slowly moving, easing his shaft up and down the cleft of Alex’s ass, Alex can’t think of anything better, unless it were slicker, and hotter.

“Uh huh,” Alex answers clumsily, already pulling the cabinet next to the mirror open and finding another small bottle of lube.

Jamie ignores the thought turning in his mind, the one wondering why Alex seems so goddamn prepared for any situation, and instead tips the bottle over and douses the both of them rather generously.

With another whimper, Alex pushes harder against Jamie and that heavy, hot, cock he’s so cleverly pried Alex with. Jamie takes the hint, and slowly grinds his shaft against Alex, pressing up on his toes in his work boots, arching his hips up, and then dragging them back down, while his hands hold Alex steady, one on either cheek, pressing them together and creating a tight, hot, soft squeeze.

He knows that Alex is scorching on the inside, and much tighter than he could ever duplicate. Still, he slides his cock up, and then down, and doesn’t miss how Alex holds himself up from the counter with one hand, his other falling to his own cock to stroke in time with Jamie’s moves. His shoulders are rounded, and tense with the effort of holding back. Sensing this, Jamie tightens his hold on Alex’s ass, stiling the younger man in the process as Jamie presses himself against Alex, chest touching back, nose buried in those gloriously sweet smelling, dark, thick curls on Alex’s head.

“Al,” Jamie breathes, fingers flexing on firm skin and muscle. “Al, please, tell me you’re ready. I’m losing myself.”

Alex nods, leaving off his cock to hook an arm back around Jamie’s neck, fingers digging into that honey-blond hair. He tugs sharply and gives a little growl. “Please, Jamie,” he pants, “please. I’m right there wiv you.”

Alex’s admission to his own slipping grip on the situation seals Jamie’s next move, and gently, slowly, he works his cock into Alex, half an inch in, waiting, hips gently rolling, one of his hands still on Alex’s ass, the other sweeping around to cup his hip and hold him steady. Alex can only answer with breathy sobs, his own hand still clutching Jamie’s hair.

“God...Jameh...ff-fff-fookin’ ‘ell, _Jameh_ ,” Alex moans as Jamie slips in further, pulling back on Alex’s hip, his body pinning Alex in place.

Caught by the hair in Alex’s fist, there is little slack afforded to Jamie to watch while he breaches the younger man. Instead, his eyes find the mirror’s reflection over Alex’s shoulder, and Jamie feels like the floor beneath him suddenly falls away. Alex’s expression is open once more, like it was hours before when they were in Alex’s bed, and the dark-haired man’s body is pulled tight like the g-string on a guitar, Adam’s apple bobbing, chest heaving, those red marks from earlier in full bloom once more. Then, Jamie meets his own gaze, and he takes in the two bodies rutting madly. It makes his hips buck rather harshly, and Alex’s fingers scramble along the porcelain countertop for purchase. Alex lets out a pained yelp, and Jamie stills, murmuring Alex’s name.

“Alex, Alex, Al, love, Al, shhh, love. Did I ‘urt you?”

Alex bites his lip and shakes his head, but he’s always been a bit shit at lying, and Jamie frowns, and gently begins to ease out of Alex’s body. Dismayed, Alex keens, and frantically pulls at Jamie, whimpering, “no, please, no, Jameh, don’t stop.”

Once more, Jamie shushes him, words pressed to Alex’s shoulder. “Al, open your eyes. Look at me.”

Dark lashes flutter, and Alex obeys, meeting Jamie’s gaze in the mirror. Alex is no blushing virgin; he identifies far from it. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say it, to tell him this is how Miles fucked him, more oft than not, this is how Miles fucked him, from behind, and though the Scouser was never a brute, and always considerate, he was never intimate, either. Always a laugh for Miles, always a chuckle and a sly smile, never fully involved. Never face to face.

Not like Alex’s first time with Jamie.

But he swallows his sentiments because Jamie isn’t Miles, and Alex clings to the notion, as _Jamie’s_ fingers dig into his hips, and _Jamie_ fucks him deep, and hard. It’s agonizingly perfect, the way _Jamie_ fits him, and surrounds him, and pulls him back to the moment. 

They are in sync with one another, like they always are, taking cues. Alex gasps, and Jamie takes note, digging into that spot again and again, relentless. Jamie knows from the hitch in Alex’s pleas - those wetly whispered words, the ones that warm Jamie and make him tingle between his hips - that Alex is scrambling towards his climax, and that thought is enough to spur Jamie on, memories of that morning’s finish still fresh in his mind.

Jamie’s forehead finds a spot to rest between Alex’s shoulders, and he inhales the scent of Alex’s sweat, his exertion and lust, arousal, and smoke, lingering after shave, everything that makes up Alex’s unique scent, and it makes Jamie moan raggedly, hot air washing over Alex’s skin to make him shiver. Closing his mouth, Jamie’s teeth clamp down on the slick, smooth flesh of Alex’s shoulder blade, and he tugs, and growls, and flexes his hips harder against Alex. When Jamie’s fingers wind their way back into Alex’s hair, and he angles the dark head back to swipe at the shell of his ear with his tongue, Jamie breathes his name hotly, tells him how good he feels, how it’s never been like this for him. Alex’s reply is a firm slotting back of his own hips, and a desperate cry as his hand quickens on his cock.

“Fuck, Cookie,” Alex purrs. There is a smile evident in his voice; in fact, he sounds downright euphoric, and he yelps and whines when Jamie fucks him harder. “ _Yes_ ,” he hisses, closing his eyes and gripping the counter for dear life. He meets Jamie’s thrusts, and his toes ache from where he’s gripping the floor, thighs tense from holding position, but it’s all part of the package, that sweat and clutch and ache and grind. “Fff-fookin’ faster, Jamie, m’gonna come, come wiv me. Oh, Jameh, _please_ " Alex whines hoarsely, "please come wiv me.”

Jamie’s reply is brash, and bullish, and he pulls tighter at the hair in his fist, and digs his fingers deeper into Alex’s hip, hoping that he leaves bruises, and half-moons from his blunt nails. His body thrums with impending orgasm; it’s a swift, pulsing thing, making limbs and guts and fingers tremble, and tingle. 

Alex is shaking, shuddering with another sharp cry, a whine and a gulp, and it’s not a sharp pulse that tells of his coming, but a slow, gut-tugging throb, and his fingers become slippery. “Now, Jameh,” he demands, before jaw hangs open and his hand is a blur. 

And Jamie follows, will always follow, head down, charging in, hips so frenzied that he pushes Alex up onto his toes, making the younger man cry out in surprise. It’s enough to bring Jamie’s head up, and he catches Alex’s wide, dark eyes in the mirror as he unloads in the tight heat surrounding him. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So, I know I said there were only, like, two more chapters, but sometimes you can't wrap things up that quickly. So, it's more like...three more? I think?

Jamie was curled around his back as Alex shot off a quick text to Matt and Nick, begging off rehearsal for one more night.

**_Still wiped from Paris_** was all he gave as an excuse, and it wasn’t a complete lie. The long nights in the city of lights were catching up to him - he hadn’t slept well the entire time he’d been gone. The heat radiating from Jamie’s body, however, was doing a fine job of lulling Alex closer to a mind-erasing sleep, something he was desperately craving. It wasn’t even five pm, and the sun was just beginning to set, but after the rather vigorous round in the bathroom with Jamie, he’d insisted on finishing the tiles, shooing Alex from the room until the grout had been poured. Jamie had found the younger lad when he’d finished, and they’d fallen into languid kisses on the couch, and ended with Jamie on his knees while Alex came down his throat with a roar. They were, for lack of a better term, spent, as was evident from Jamie’s gentle snoring, and Alex’s heavy eyelids.

Stretching into Jamie’s hold, Alex reached to drop his phone on the nightstand when it vibrated, signalling a new message.

It was from Miles.

**_Let’s have a drink, love, and then another._ **

The phone vibrated again, this time with an **_Fair enough, tomorrow then?_** from Matt, and a **_Weak!_** reply from Nick.

A second message from Miles popped up:

**_Or maybe you want to stay in…?_ **

Alex tensed and licked his lips. While yes, he had an agreement with Miles, Alex hadn’t had a chance to tell him that this was one of those times he was with Jamie.

He confirmed Matt’s inquiry into the next day, saying he’d touch base in the morning, and sent Nick a hasty **_Fuck off_** before flipping Mile’s messages open again. Worrying his bottom lip, he sent back, **_Knackered. Maybe later in the week?_**

Miles was quick to reply, **_Need a pick me up? Come on, I’ve got a treat here._**

Alex snorted. He knew _exactly_ what Miles was talking about, but Alex still had a tiny bit of coke left - not enough to share, but enough to shake him awake. Maybe he could write for a bit.

The tightening of Jamie’s arm around his waist made Alex pause, and he wondered if perhaps Jamie had a sense of what was going on. Alex let his free hand drift down and cover Jamie’s where it had settled on his hip, and his eyes closed briefly as Jamie’s knee slid up the back of Alex’s thigh, and nudged him further onto his front. Jamie was already half hard, pushing against Alex’s tailbone, and as he murmured sleepy sentiments against Alex’s shoulder, the phone vibrated in Alex’s hand once more, sending the dark-haired man into the first twitches of anxiety.

He grimaced at Nick’s message. **_No_** , Alex quickly thumbed back, **_I’m fine. Just tired, really. I’ll be good tomorrow._** And then, of course, Miles sent another text, making Alex’s fist tighten around his phone. Jamie huffed in his sleep, and pulled Alex against him, broad hand sweeping down around his hip and back up to plant itself against Alex’s heart. Here, Jamie tugged, even as he pressed his chest further into Alex’s back, pinning him further to the mattress.

**_Shall I leave off, then? Something tells me you’re not alone._ **

Hating his transparency at the moment, Alex wiggled out from Jamie’s hold, despite Jamie’s reluctance to let him go. The blond let out a soft moan of disappointment, but in his sleep he had little fight left in him. His fingers curled reflexively, trying to maintain a hold on Alex in the last moments, but Alex was already gone.

He padded down the hallway towards the kitchen, pausing to glance in the bathroom for a moment. A small smile formed on his lips, Jamie’s frantic words still echoing on the tiles, and in his veins. Alex was of a mind that Jamie was permanently etched into this space, more so than anyone else, even Lex.

God, Lex. He couldn’t start thinking of Lex right now, couldn’t deal with the shitstorm that he knew was coming. He’d told Jamie that Miles wasn’t stupid, but Alexa was the most observant person he knew; she had to suspect, and she wouldn’t wait much longer to put those suspicions to the test, and ask Alex point blank what was up. The thought of lying to Lex, and to himself, really, made his stomach twist, and he quickly turned from the bathroom and made tracks to the front hall where he’d stashed his luggage.

The zippered pocket on the side proved worthy - Miles had tucked the last of their coke, glass vial and all, into one of Alex’s shoes, explaining that in the checked luggage it would be fine. Of course, Alex had been high on the flight home, too, so he hadn’t really worried, merely stared bug-eyed at Miles for a spell before becoming positively fascinated with the ornate paintings that lined the halls of the terminals in the airport.

Palming the vial, Alex moved to the living room, opting for the easy chair instead of the couch, though he eyed the spot Jamie had reduced him to a desperately whining tangle of limbs yet again. His thumb and forefinger deftly unscrewed the top of the vial while he sucked the tip of his pinky finger on the opposite hand. There was barely enough to make a difference, but he’d get it all, somehow get his tongue inside that vial if he had to, and when the lid came free, Alex carefully dumped the contents onto his damp fingertip and then lifted it to his nose. One quick snort was all it took, and he rubbed the remainder into his gums, and heard the rush of his blood roaring in his ears as his focus sharpened. With his heart threading madly in his chest, he scrambled to find a pen before tearing open his notebook.

He didn’t know how long he wrote for, all he knew was that his thoughts were coming faster than his hand could carry them down to the page, and he briefly wondered if he’d be able to read the mess come morning. It didn’t matter, though, because there was another thought, blood and bruises, and smoke in the hair, and here was another - dirt beneath the dirt, clean coming will hurt, and god, this was good stuff, _really_ good stuff, and he couldn’t wait to show the other lads.

+

Jamie’s hand was vibrating.

He curled his fingers, thinking to dispel the pins and needles that had obviously set in, but instead, Jamie came up with a handful of cold, hard glass and a plastic case. Cracking an eye open he felt a pang of unease when Alex was nowhere to be seen, and that he was clutching Alex’s phone, which was still vibrating madly.

It was an incoming call from Alexa, and Jamie dropped the phone like it had burned him. Perhaps in someway it had; he rubbed his fingertips together, waiting for the vibrating to stop. When it did, Alexa’s contact information faded away, and the screen displayed six texts, all from Miles, and, as Jamie read, all varying forms of nosing about Alex’s current state of mind, and the nature of his evening activities.

It shouldn’t have made Jamie’s blood heat, but it did. The messages were flirtatious, borderline aggressive in some instances, but it was the Scouser’s constant use of ‘babe’, and ‘love’ that set Jamie’s shoulders tight. He sat up, groaning at overworked muscles, and raked a hand through his hair, still staring at the messages on Alex’s phone. He was prepared to chuck the device back onto Alex’s side of the bed and find the wayward lad - it wasn’t like Alex had replied to any of Mile’s attempts to talk, or so it seemed - when he became acutely aware of someone knocking on the door to the flat. And it wasn’t just a gentle knocking; the rapid tattoo, and loudness thereof, told Jamie that someone had been knocking for a spell. Where the fuck was Alex? Clutching the phone, Jamie tugged on his boxers, and wandered out into the living room.

He found Alex there, head tipped back on the back of the couch, notebook in his lap, pen barely grasped in limp fingers, and a bottle of whiskey open on the table, next to what Jamie suspected was a coke vial. The rapid-fire banging on the door continued, coupled with a muffled voice. Jamie looked back to Alex, confirming the lad was well and truly passed out, and then looked to the phone, once more glancing at the last text Miles had sent, about an hour ago:

**_You couldn’t ignore me if you tried, Turner. Don’t give me the silent treatment. I’ll come over and make you talk._ **

_Jesus **fookin’** Christ, Kane has fucking nerve._ With one more glance at Alex, Jamie made his decision: he was going to have to reiterate the little arrangement Miles had made with Alex. After all, Alex was here with Jamie, and that meant he was with Jamie. He moved to the front door, took a deep breath, flipped the lock open, and yanked the door wide.

“What the fook, Mi…” Jamie’s face drained of color as he stared back at the person on the other side of the door. “Fook me,” he breathed, cheeks heating as rapidly as they had paled.

Nick stared back, eyes dancing over Jamie’s state of undress, and the marks all over his skin. When he finally met Jamie’s wide eyes, he grinned softly, no surprise evident in his expression. “Looks like someone’s already got that covered.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

Jamie blinked at Nick dumbly, and he was aware of his mouth gaping as his brain scrambled to some course of action. Almost on instinct, he stepped aside and waited for Nick to take the hint. The bass player didn’t disappoint, and he quietly moved into the front entrance of Alex’s flat, gently shutting the door behind him. He took a moment to assess the situation more fully - Jamie in his drawers, bright eyes, mussed hair, and Alex passed out on the couch, head tilted back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he snored.

“What’s wiv ‘im?” Nick asked, looking back to Jamie, who was now looking anywhere but at Nick, and rubbing the back of his head.

“Dunno,” Jamie shrugged lamely. “Coke, I suppose,” he added on the next breath. “I knew he was dabblin’ in Paris but…” he shrugged again. He dared to lift his gaze to Nick.

Nick’s eyes widened, and swung to Alex. “ _Coke _? As in, fucking co- _caine_?” Pulling a hand over his dark hair, Nick moved further into the flat, and eyed Alex warily. “Is he alrigh’? I thought guys on coke were always a bit...manic, yeah?”__

__“Chased it wiv whiskey,” Jamie replied._ _

__“Jesus, what a fookin’ arse.” Nick sighed and stood straight from where he was leaning over Alex, taking a closer look. “Oi! Alex!” Nick suddenly barked, causing Jamie to jump._ _

__Alex made a small sound of annoyance._ _

__Slightly disgusted, Nick shook his head. “He’s being a prick. Eh, ‘ear tha’, Turner? You’re being a prick!”_ _

__“Fugg off, Mal,” Alex slurred. His eyes were still closed._ _

__“Alex,” Nick prodded, his voice growing louder. He reached a hand out and clapped it on Alex’s shoulder, shaking him roughly._ _

__Alex’s lanky arms came up and shoved at Nick. His eyes snapped open, pools of black that snapped with fire. “Jesus _fookin’_ Christ, Mal! Stop being a prat!” _ _

__Nick took a step back and watched Alex, waiting for the lad to put two and two together. When Alex continued to silently glare at Nick, Nick countered, “Thought you were knackered, mate. From Paris?” He raised an eyebrow from good measure, and grinned cheekily._ _

__Alex frowned, and then watched Nick’s eyes cut to the other side of the room, before coming back to him. Alex glanced to where Nick had, and spotted Jamie, flushed and free of clothing, save for his boxers. “Fuck,” he uttered, quickly looking back to Nick. His cheeks heated and he blinked, and all at once began scrambling up from the couch. Nick backed away to let him up, and watched as Alex exploded to his feet, and looked at Jamie incredulously._ _

__“Are you fookin’ daft, Jamie? Why the fook are y’answerin’ me door? That could have been anyone - me mum, fookin’ _Lex_ , or Mi-”_ _

__“Or Miles?” Jamie finished with a sneer. He held up Alex’s phone with a grim expression._ _

__“You goin’ through me fookin’ phone, too, now?” He snatched the phone from Jamie’s grasp._ _

__Jamie scowled, and stared at Alex, who at least had the decency to look ashen at his outburst. “Look,” Jamie growled lowly, “I weren’t thinking, alrigh’? An’ you left your bloody phone in the bed, an’ Kane is lighting up your texts like it’s goin’ out o’style - why _wouldn’t_ I think it’s him banging on your door at ten o’clock at night? He held the phone out to Alex, and his tone softened. “Do you think you’re the only one that’s got summat to lose?”_ _

__“Should I maybe go, or…?” Nick broke in carefully, having watching the back and forth between Jamie and Alex like he was at Wimbledon._ _

__They ignored Nick, each staring the other down, refusing to crumble with the weight of the situation. Suddenly, another buzzing text rattled Alex’s phone, and he glanced down at the screen before softly swearing. He cast another glance at Jamie, and a wary one at Nick, and then pushed between the pair, making his way to the kitchen._ _

__Jamie was quick to follow, and Nick took up the rear. They found Alex rummaging in his cupboards, slamming the doors and muttering to himself._ _

__“Look...I kind of already...you know...knew,” Nick sighed. “Like, knew that you two were...y’know.” He made a gesture between the two of them, and if the situation wasn’t so delicate, he might have laughed at the twin expressions of confusion Alex and Jamie shared. Nick shrugged. “S’not tha’ big of a deal, yeah? You two...I mean, it’s kinda fittin’. But you’re butterflies wiv the way you flit about one another, or summat, you know?”_ _

__“Fank you, Nick, joost what I needed, shitty metaphors to go along wiv this blindin’ headache. Christ.” Alex growled and continued his search until he finally seized whatever he’d been looking for, and turned around to face Jamie once more._ _

__“Alex - Al, look, you need to calm down, yeah?” Jamie’s eyes cut to the miniscule bag Alex clutched in his fist, and he sighed, looking back to Alex. “The _last_ fing you need right now is more o’tha’,” Jamie murmured, trying to reason with the younger man. “We need to talk. I’ll get rid o’Mal, but we need to talk.”_ _

__Alex sniffed, and rolled his head along his shoulders in a rather cocky gesture. “Fine,” he snapped, opening the bag and ignoring Jamie’s previous concern. Dipping his pinky finger back in, Alex scooped a bump and snorted it, licking his teeth and shaking his head as his blood turned fizzy. “I’ll talk, Jamie. Tha’ wha’ you want? Fine, I’ll talk, you listen. I didn’t ask for your affections, you realize, an’ I didn’t mean to lead you on - maybe you should have joost left me at the side o’tha road, yeah? Continued driving off into the sunset wivout me, fookin’ lost cause an’ all o’tha’. This...fing we got, yeah, I’ll admit I didn’t ask for it, an’ it’s a grand mess, but I _told_ you, James, it’s all we got, you were ‘appy wiv tha’. Enough to shag me proper in me bathroom, anyway. Am I not playin’ by your rules? Eh? That why you’re so fookin’ mardy?”_ _

__Jamie’s eyes flashed, and he stared at Alex incredulously. “ _You’re_ the one wiv the rules, Al, an’ you’re not very forthcomin’ wiv ‘em at tha’. Or you’re changing them as we go along, to suit you an’ your moods.”_ _

__“I’m sorry for lookin’ out for meself,” Alex snidely continued. “You an’ I both know that when you leave you’ll go back to Katie, an’ play house, an’ ‘ave a lovely spring wedding some day, one where you’ll expect me to smile an’ laugh and give a toast to your beautiful bride.”_ _

__Jamie stared at Alex for a moment, and he had to remind himself that the wild-eyed lad just snorted away another dozen brain cells, and his sensibility along with it. “And what about when you leave, eh? Where you gonna end up? Wiv Lex? Or Miles?” He shook his head, and gave a helpless laugh. “I thought you said - I mean...Alex. I _can’t_ keep doin’ this, aye? I told you what I want-” _ _

__“Jesus, fook tha’ both of ya, Kane, an’ you, Cookie, because I can’t keep up with either of ya. Can’t be what you want me to be, can’t have it the way I want it, can’t fookin’ get you outta my head, James.”_ _

__“Why are you so eager to do so?” Jamie softly asked._ _

__Alex felt a swelling of emotion, so strong, and so swift, that it shocked his already altered state. All at once he blurted out, “This was wrong.”_ _

__The room became a vacuum, cold and still._ _

__Nick softly muttered a disdainful, “Shit,” and immediately looked to Jamie._ _

__Jamie blinked dumbly. He wasn’t sure if he heard Alex correctly, and he shook his head as if to clear it. “Alex, what the fuck?” he whispered, taking a small step forward._ _

__Alex’s heart thundered in his chest. He couldn’t let Jamie close again. Fuck, who was he kidding; there was no going back. It terrified him, too, and made him question everything he thought he had figured out._ _

__The phone that Alex had set on the counter suddenly began vibrating, and the ringtone went off again, Alexa’s name flashing across the screen. With a sharp sniff, Alex reached to shut it off, but Jamie beat him to it, and snatched it off the counter and hurled it against the refrigerator. It shattered, and the sound made Alex jump, and propelled Nick forward between the two._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Jamie said hurriedly, horrified that he’d acted on impulse. Fuck, Alex. Jamie was losing his bearing on the roundabout of Alex’s emotions. “Al-”_ _

__“I fink you should go,” Alex muttered flatly, staring at the pieces of his phone scattered on the kitchen floor._ _

__“Alex, it were...I shouldn’t have done that-”_ _

__“Seems to be the theme o’tha day, yeah?” Alex dared look up at Jamie from under his lashes, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He wanted to hate Jamie, he needed to, the things he was feeling were digging under his skin, further than Lex, deeper than Miles, and it scared the hell out of him. Nothing was making sense; nothing had since Frankfurt, and Alex had been in denial. Jamie’s confessions echoed in Alex’s veins, and his own replies haunted him. He’d put himself out there and allowed himself to feel too much too quickly._ _

__“We need to talk about-”_ _

__“Joost fookin’ go!” Alex suddenly roared. His voice went hoarse, and with it his nerve, and he rubbed furiously at the tears of frustration that began to well. When Jamie moved closer, his hand reaching out, Alex sharply backed away. “Please, Jamie. I don’t wanna talk, not now,” he begged. Now was not good. Now there were too many emotions, and it was getting dangerous. Steeling himself, Alex hardened his jaw, and turned a cold glance up to Jamie._ _

__“Go. Joost go.”_ _

__Jamie narrowed his gaze. “Maybe when you’re not high, yeah?”_ _

__“Hey-” Jamie felt a hand on his chest and he glanced up, seeing Nick. He’d forgotten the bass player was there. “C’mon,” Nick sighed, throwing Alex a withering smile. He then looked back to Jamie. “Let’s go get lunch, yeah?”_ _

__Jamie nodded, feeling the tightness in his chest ease by a fraction. Nick was always good for diffusing a situation. He left the kitchen without a backwards glance to Alex, and headed to the bedroom to gather his discarded clothing._ _

__Nick turned to Alex. “I guarantee he’s just as scared as you.”_ _

__Alex blinked. “Wot?” His lip curled delicately. “He knew what the fook were goin’ on.”_ _

__“Just like you did, right?” Nick snapped._ _

__“I - what’s that supposed to mean?”_ _

__Nick sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “You’re both fucking pricks, but you’re the biggest pricks to one another, yeah? Can’t be honest, so you hafta be dickheads.” He shook his head, and moved to the front door when he heard Jamie heading up the hallway. “Practice?” Nick attempted a quick subject change, to leave on a neutral note._ _

__“Sunday,” Alex mumbled._ _

__“Sunday it is,” Nick agreed. He now had three days to do damage control._ _


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> I'd like to apologize to anyone I killed, or almost killed, or made cry, sweat, tremble, shake, or have feels in general.
> 
> Who am I kidding, I love that shit!
> 
> Thanks, everyone. Chalk this one up as another fic that Brodie actually finished. <3

**_~~Four Months Later~~_ **

 

“So? Are we going? We _have_ to be going, Jamie, it’s Alex and Miles! How could we not go?”

Jamie eyed the tickets clutched in Katie’s hand and kicked himself for not tossing the envelope when Nick had handed it to him.

_“Joost take ‘em, Cookie. An’ consider comin’ out? You’d hate yourself for not coming to their show. I know you. You’d never forgive yourself.”_

“Ehhhh,” Jamie shrugged, no answer at the ready. What could he say, though? “I dunno...what night is it?”

Katie rolled her eyes at Jamie’s stubbornness. “Honestly, Jamie, you’re so…” she waved her hand in the air and then sighed, sinking down onto the couch next to Jamie. “What’s wrong, baby? Hmm? You’ve been really _off_ lately. Distant. Even when we were in Rome, you seemed to be...I don’t know. Stuck here. I know was I was busy with the shoot, and you were more or less left to fend for yourself a lot of the time, but...I thought you had a good time? That we had a good time.”

“No, it’s not that. I had a great time, I really did.” Jamie picked up her empty hand and uncured her fingers, kissing her palm gently. “It’s not you, Katie. You’re perfect.”

_You’re just not Alex._

Jamie shook the thought from his mind and forced a smile for Katie. “Guess I’m joost...bored...or summat. That’s probably it, though. Season is flat, an’ I haven’t picked up me guitar in forever.”

Katie nodded, her face concerned as she laced her fingers with Jamie’s. “Then we should absolutely go.” Her smile was bright. “Maybe you’ll be inspired?”

Again, Jamie shrugged, but he nodded, and tried to be enthusiastic about it. “Sure, Katie,” he agreed. “Whatever you like.”

She pursed her lips and dashed a quick kiss on Jamie’s cheek. “You’re so good to me, baby,” she sighed. “I’m going to ring Lex an’ let her know we’re coming. She mentioned an after party, too.”

“Cool,” Jamie replied, nodding once more.

He felt anything but.

+

“Have you spoken with him since...you know?” Nick phrased his question cautiously, unsure of Jamie’s mood.

“Since he more or less told me to fuck off, an' hit the road wiv Kane?” Jamie scowled at the memory. “No. Why would I? He made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want owt to do wiv me.”

Nick smoked silently for a moment, watching as Jamie paced the pavement in front of the theatre. “You left, too, you know,” Nick pointed out. “Didn’t even wait for rehearsal to be over, either, joost waltzed in, announced your departure for Rome, an’ gave us a smile an’ a wave.”

Jamie made a face, and snagged the cigarette from Nick’s grasp. “What else were I gonna do? Wait in Sheffield for Alex fookin’ Turner to make up his mind?” He took a drag off the cigarette and exhaled through his nose.

Nick’s eyes goggled. “An’ leavin’ wiv Katie for three months before Alex left on tour was what? You making up _your_ mind? Cuz believe me, Cookie, if you had, we wouldn’t be out here, and you _certainly_ wouldn’t be tryin’ to smoke away jitters.”

“ ‘Aven’t got jitters,” Jamie defended, even as his cheeks heated.

“Says the lad blushing ‘Turner pink’.” Nick chuckled at Jamie’ s confusion. “S’what I named tha’ color you’re turnin’ right now,” Nick explained, taking his cigarette back and pointing at Jamie with it. “Because I know for a fact you don’t turn tha’ color unless Alex is involved.”

“Tell that to ‘elders?” Jamie mumbled, halting his stride and moving to lean against the wall next to Nick.

“I never said owt to Helders,” Nick answered solemnly. “About any of it.”

Jamie nodded, knowing this to be true, but the fact that Nick had said it was obvious made Jamie wary. Even after spending the last seven months separated from Alex and in the company of Katie, Jamie felt a fraud, and he was terribly worried about being transparent. He’d never actually stopped thinking about Alex, even though he fought to concentrate on his relationship with Katie to his fullest extent.

As if sensing Jamie’s train of thought, Nick fixed his friend with a hard stare. “You were gone a long time wiv Katie. How are things...there? You know…”

Jamie took his time formulating an answer. While it was true that his acceptance of Katie’s offer to travel with her for the last four months was spontaneous, he did his thinking in Rome, while Katie was on shoots, and found that if nothing else, he enjoyed her company. They still laughed at the same things, enjoyed the same music and movies, and there was an easy rapport between them that came from being an item for three years. In truth, he’d missed her, as both of their schedules were hectic.

“Familiar,” he finally answered, “but in a good way. I missed her.”

Nick, having known Jamie for a little bit longer, detected a barb in Jamie’s tone. “But?”

And Jamie couldn’t lie, not really, not in this situation, not to Nick. He fixed the bass player with a rather long, wistful stare. “I miss ‘im, too,” Jamie admitted softly. “Right from the beginning.”

“He were pretty desolate wivout you, you know,” Nick offered. “In a proper mood. Not even Miles could cheer him up.”

Jamie scowled at the mention of the scouser. “Yeah. Yeah, he were so desolate that he called up Kane, who swept in an’ saved the day.”

Nick made a sound of disgust. “We needed a guitar player. You were already on a plane to Rome. Swear to Christ, the two of you get some sort of sick satisfaction ‘urtin’ one another.” Pushing off the wall, Nick came to stand toe-to-toe with Jamie, and looked him dead in the eye. “You have to talk to him. You _have_ to.”

Jamie closed his eyes briefly at the pleading in Nick’s tone. “For the band?” He scoffed lightly.

“Fuck the band,” Nick growled. “For _you_. The _two_ of you. There’s too much of a friendship at stake here.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever be friends again,” Jamie murmured. “We crossed a line-”

“An’ now you’ll just have to adjust,” Nick cut in. “Erase the line. Fuck the line. It’s a blank space. Start over.”

“Do you really believe that’s possible?”

Nick shrugged, and stepped towards the entrance of the theater. “Nothin’ ventured, yeah?”

Jamie shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, too. “He’s wiv Miles, yeah? Right now, I mean. While he’s on tour. He’s wiv Miles. An’ I’m wiv Katie.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at Jamie, utterly unconvinced with Jamie’s reasoning. “Maybe you need to figure out what you want-”

“I told ‘im, Nick. I told ‘im what I wanted, that he were mine an’ he joost…” Jamie fluttered his hand uselessly. “He took it, an’ he ran.” Jamie shook his head once more. “I’m not settin’ meself up for any o’that again.”

+

“You’re nervous.”

Alex looked up from where he was pacing the dressing room floor and watched Miles file into the room. The Liverpudlian swept his dark hair from his eyes and then folded himself onto the couch, arms resting on his bony knees. “I don’t fink I’ve ever seen ya this nervous, laa,” Miles continued. “C’ept for maybe when I was still in The Little Flames. God, you were all elbows and awkward smiles.”

Alex swallowed and tried to put on an amused grin, but it came out awfully crooked. 

Miles cooed, and patted the couch next to him. “Is it because we’re in Sheffield?” Miles gently prodded, leaving out the mention of the Monkeys, and one in particular. Alex had been getting better over the last six weeks, slowly coming out of the dark mood Jamie’s abrupt departure had left him in, but Miles knew the upcoming show in Sheffield had been looming over Alex.

Alex sighed, and shrugged inelegantly, and sank down beside Miles. “Guess so,” he mumbled. “I...yeah, I mean...the audience is full of people who know me. It’s not strangers this time.”

“All the more reason to wow them,” Miles smiled. He put an arm around Alex’s shoulders and hugged him gently. “An’ you will. You do, every night, you know.”

Alex turned his gaze onto Miles, and gave the younger man a genuine smile. “So do you,” Alex insisted. “More so than me. You’re a fucking flame, Miles, burnin’ bright, takin’ all the air around you.”

“You’re the one who’s guilty of makin’ me lightheaded,” Miles murmured, leaning closer to Alex. His hazel eyes fixed on Alex’s mouth for a moment, and then flicked back to the older lad’s dark gaze. 

“Miles,” Alex whispered, smiling fondly. “We haven’t got the time.”

“Always got time, Al,” Miles whispered, closing the distance between them. “Breathe with me, laa,” he uttered against Alex’s lips.

Alex nodded, and let Miles’ kiss consume him, and the last eight minutes before showtime.

+

Their heads were pressed together, and the mics barely picked up the gentle murmuring between the two. From his place behind Katie, Jamie watched as Miles and Alex paused between songs, and shared a laugh. He didn’t want to begrudge Alex any of this - this was Alex’s time to shine, and he was doing so rather brilliantly, with an amphitheatre sound, sweeping strings, and swelling, rousing acoustics. In short, The Last Shadow Puppets were an entirely new breed, and the songs they’d presented seemed to recharge the crowd, and make them clamour for more. Jamie felt hollow in the gut, and empty in the heart, as he watched Alex smile, and laugh, and bat his lashes as he sang harmonies in a voice that was distinctly delicate, yet distinguished: he had every ear in the room.

“This next song was written by Alex. At least, the words were,” Miles announced, wiggling his fingers along the fretboard. “We ‘ope you enjoy it.” Miles leaned back from the mic, stepped away, and nodded at Alex who stepped up to the mic.

He caught sight of Alexa, and he smiled at her, and then on autopilot his eyes searched out Katie, because the two were usually attached at the hip at these things, and then-

Miles was counting off into the intro, but Alex could only stare at Jamie as Jamie stared back at him. Alex missed his cue, and panicked, and quickly looked to Miles, who stepped closer with an encouraging nod, and directed the other musicians through a bar before looping back and playing Alex in again.

Jamie held his breath, and watched as Alexa glanced over her shoulder at Katie, and gave a little shrug. It wasn’t like Alex to miss an intro, but they smoothed it over, and soon enough, Alex’s voice, clear and calm, flooded the hall.

_“The time has come again…”_

Jamie swallowed thickly and tried to look away, but Alex refused to, and seemed riveted to Jamie’s blue gaze as he sang on.

_“If only they were seventeen...”_

Alex’s smooth baritone snagged on ‘seventeen’, and Jamie felt his throat close with a nostalgic ache.

Beside him, Miles played placidly, and watched Alex closely, inherently knowing something was amiss. Alex didn’t miss cues like that. Following the older lad’s line of sight, Miles at first spotted Alexa, and then looked further, finding Jamie staring straight back.

And really, Miles should have known, with the way things had been left, that at first glimpse of Jamie Alex would be overrun with emotion. He wasn’t just singing this damn song, he was more or less living it, and Miles’ fingers reluctantly took Alex to the bridge, and Miles echoed his sentiments.

_“Without permission his face became wet…”_

Miles pressed the strings into the fret harder and bit the inside of his cheek, turning back to James behind the drumkit to give him a heads up. The song was almost finished, but Miles knew that Alex and Jamie were far from their ending.

+

**Author's Note:**

> I can't thank nmbr1fanilow enough. She used her valuable time to read this, and correct minor spelling and grammatical errors, and asked the questions that needed to be asked.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @kittykillswitch


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